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Sunday, October 11, 2015

Poop In Space

Sadie used to employ a similar procedure this summer:

Tucked away in a storage locker was a supply of special plastic bags, each of which resembled a top hat with an adhesive coating on the brim. Each bag had a kind of finger-shaped pocket built into the side of it. When the call came you had to flypaper this thing to your rear end, and then you were supposed to reach in there with your finger—after all, nothing falls—and suddenly you were wishing you’d never left home. And after you had it in the bag, so to speak, you had one last delightful task: Break open a capsule of blue germicide, seal it up in the bag, and knead the contents to make sure they were fully mixed.

At best, the whole operation was an ordeal. In the confined space of the command module, your crewmates suffered too. One of the Apollo 7 astronauts said the smell was so bad it woke him up from a deep sleep. When Schirra’s crew came back they wrote a memo about it: “Get naked, allow an hour, have plenty of tissues handy…”

It's amazing just how much I think about poop on a daily basis...


October 11, 2015 | Permalink


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