Time for a fresh installment in our exploration of the future we were supposed to be enjoying right now, but were heartlessly cheated out of by capricious trivialities like the laws of physics. (Stupid physical properties of the universe. Stupid quantum mechanics.)

In our unrealized present many of our airports have been replaced by “spaceports,” since we’ve colonized most of the solar system by now. Oh, look. Here’s one now:

Back in the 1950s, commercial air travelers boarded airliners by walking out onto a tarmac and climbing up a set of removable stairs. Naturally in the year 2000 and beyond, we will be commuting in rocket-liners but will not have figured out how to get passengers on them without exposing them to wind, rain and snow. Of course the sky glows a lovely post-apocalyptic red all the time these days and it rains blood and ash if it rains at all. 

The good news is, your wife can drive your nuclear-powered Ford Fairlane right onto the launching pad to drop you off for a business trip to Europa as you sport chafe-free short shorts and calf-hugging Superman boots.

And best of all. . .

 

 . . .you can enjoy a refreshing smoke before boarding. Lighting up while wearing oxygen tanks on your back? Why certainly! Firing up a Lucky Strike while a rocket is being fueled nearby. Have two! Here in the future, we’re idiots.