My Moon Trip Price? Don’t Ask

My Price Tag for a Trip to the Moon? Zero. Absolutely Zero.

Ask most people what they’d pay for a ticket to the Moon, and you’ll get answers ranging from “my life savings” to “whatever it takes.” Me? I wouldn’t pay a single pie. In fact, I wouldn’t go even if they paid me.

For all the romance and wonder of space travel, my aversion to leaving Earth’s atmosphere is rooted in two very clear, very terrestrial, and yet very universal observations.

The first reason is simple, almost primal: I’ve seen the astronauts live in the spaceship.

When I see footage of those brilliant men and women floating inside the International Space Station, or hear the close-quarters stories from the Apollo missions, the glorious dream of space travel is immediately overshadowed by the cramped, utilitarian, and utterly enclosed reality.

It looks like living inside a tin can that has a particularly aggressive case of wire spaghetti. It’s a life of tethered movement, recycled air, and meticulously portioned everything. The sheer effort required for the simplest of tasks—from brushing teeth to using the restroom—has created a complete and utter aversion to ever going to space. I like my room to stretch out in, my breeze, and the ability to open a window. The claustrophobia alone would be enough to sign me up for a lifetime of staying firmly planted on solid ground.

Do We Really Deserve a Second Chance?

The second reason is philosophical, and perhaps more important: Why spoil another planet in the galaxy?

Look at Earth. We, as a species, have a truly abysmal track record. We’ve manipulated, polluted, and destroyed the only known planet in the universe that can sustain us with such reckless abandon that we’re now scrambling for Plan B.

And what is Plan B? To land on a pristine, untouched world—be it the Moon or Mars—and begin the process all over again.

I am genuinely terrified of the thought of humanity colonizing other celestial bodies. Are we going to take our wars, our waste, our corporate greed, and our insatiable desire for “more” and project them onto the Moon’s surface?

The Moon is a beautiful, silent sentinel in the sky. Maybe, just maybe, it should be left that way. Perhaps our focus shouldn’t be on escaping a problem we created by fleeing to the next nearest body, but by proving we can finally clean up the magnificent home we already have.

Until we can demonstrate true respect and responsibility for the Earth, I don’t believe we’ve earned the right to touch the galaxy.

So, for now, my ticket to the Moon will remain firmly in the “rejected” pile. I’ll enjoy the stars and the Moon from the ground, where the air is fresh, the space is vast, and the only planet I’m responsible for is the one right beneath my feet.