Mars Helicopter Noise Complaint
Multiple versions, different lengths. Letter to the editor.
Generic version. 250 words.
Dear Editor, and NASA:
I moved to Mars to get away from the incessant noise of aircraft. “Don’t move near an airport” is the common response to this complaint. Guess what? I never moved near an airport. On Earth I lived downtown, where there were no low-flying aircraft.
That is, until the helicopters came. It started with one hotel building a helipad on the roof. Everyone who was anyone couldn’t take a taxi or a stretch limo to the hotel; no, they had to be seen arriving by chopper. This sparked a race to the bottom at the top of every hotel in town, and pretty soon every night was like a scene from “Apocalypse Now” (minus the napalm).
So I moved to Mars, where the atmosphere is thin and where there were no people or helicopters.
Emphasis on “were”.
The other day I fell out of my bunk, rousted from sleep by a nightmare that I was back in the chopper-filled city. But no, it was just NASA’s new little darling, the ‘copter called Ingenuity, out there flying pointlessly up a few meters (we’re metric here), and dropping back down. Was exporting this annoying noisemaking device to another planet the highest and best use of tax money? And did they have to put it right in my crater? Don’t accuse me of NIMBY-ism; I moved to Mars, for gosh sake. And don’t talk to me about zoning. I was here first.
Please, NASA: no more helicopters on Mars!
-30-
This work appeared in Hometown News Brevard on April 29, 2021.
This work appeared in The Virginian-Pilot on April 30, 2021. It may have also inspired an editorial cartoon that appeared a couple of days earlier (but after I had submitted my letter); no credit was given, so I’m not sure.
Gardnerville, Nevada version. 451 words.
Dear Editor (and NASA if you’re reading),
I moved to Mars to get away from incessant noise.
Actually, that was also why I first moved to Northwest Gardnerville, thinking it was a remote desert town. Big mistake. I moved there before the formerly sleepy Carson Valley Inn and Casino was discovered by the retro-loving hipsters and the country music set. This town is not exactly Vegas, but it doesn’t have to be to exceed my noise tolerance. While I welcome the end of the pandemic, I just know that starting with the summer concert series featuring Tanya Tucker, against whom I have no beef save for the crowds she attracts, this place is about to become Noise City, USA.
I could almost take it, except the casino offers sporting clays. For those who don’t recognize the term, it refers to shooting ceramics out of the sky. With shotguns. As a side note, even if they made silencers for shotguns I doubt anyone would use them. As with loud pipes on motorcycles, the noise of shotguns is half (or more) the fun for the participants.
Oh, and the noise of aircraft. “Don’t move near an airport” is the common response to this complaint. Well, I didn’t exactly move right next to one. But who knew that between the crowds flying in to the casino, and this area becoming a “soaring” and skydiving destination, that little old Minden-Tahoe Airport would fill our skies with air traffic like something out of the pre-yippie-ki-yay finale of Die Hard 2?
Hence my move to Mars, where the skies were blessedly empty and it was blessedly quiet.
Emphasis on “were” and also on “was”.
The other day I fell out of my bunk, rousted from sleep by a nightmare that I was back in noisesome Gardnerville. But no, it was just NASA’s new little darling, the ‘copter called Ingenuity, out there flying pointlessly up a few meters (we’re metric here), and dropping back down. Not entirely pointlessly, though, because the Perseverance rover was also scooting about and the two were taking photos of each other from various distances. The rover’s servo motors and the aircraft’s chopper blades would fit right into the ambience of my old home too close to the casino and the airport.
Was exporting this annoying noisemaking device to another planet the highest and best use of tax money? And did they have to put it right in my crater? Don’t accuse me of NIMBY-ism; I moved to Mars, for gosh sake. And don’t talk to me about zoning. I was here first.
At least NASA hasn’t sent up any country vixens or robots that shoot sporting clays.
Yet.
Christopher Jones
Jezero Crater, Mars
-30-
This work appeared in The Record-Courier on May 13, 2021.
371 words. Reply to Mr. Clark’s complaint about inaccuracy of my letter of 05/13/2021.
In his letter of May 20, Mr. Clark informs us that the shooting of sporting clays does not happen within earshot of the Inn. He then adds a dig at you, Mr. Editor, for not checking the accuracy of submittals.
This reminds me of a kerfuffle that developed after another letter I had published elsewhere over 20 years ago. Coincidentally, NASA was the subject of that letter too. In it, I described NASA's plan to send Elian Gonzalez back to Cuba in style, using a large purpose-built catapult. I described in great detail how the lad would be insulated to survive the portion of the 90-mile trip that would take him into the bitterly cold stratosphere which no one, regardless of refugee status, could survive unshielded. I also described the streamers and parachute that would deploy during his descent to land him gently in the geographic center of Havana, plus or minus one half mile (the winds, you know). In the plan, he would throw candies to the assembled crowds as he floated down, and then he would be dandled on the knee of then-presidente Fidel Castro.
This letter sparked a number of heated responses about a passage which had Elian enjoying enchiladas during the salsa music-infused fiesta leading up to his launch. Irate readers protested that the foods I described were Mexican fare, not Cuban. This seemed wrong-headed to me on two counts: 1) people of all cultures, including myself--a descendant of English and Irish persons--might enjoy an enchilada; and 2) the obviously fictional catapult ought to have been the focus of any complaints of inaccuracy.
It is amazing what massive lies you can smuggle in behind the smokescreen of minor fibs concerning culture or geography.
As for my most recent letter, allow me to state that I unreservedly apologize for misstating the noise impact of sporting clays at the Inn, and while I do not apologize for this much larger fiction I also state categorically that I do not live on Mars.
I moved to Venus, which is not on Tanya Tucker's tour calendar and where no one is currently sending helicopters.
Regards,
Christopher Jones
Venus (formerly of Jezero Crater, Mars, and even more formerly of Gardnerville)
-30-
This work appeared in The Record-Courier on May 27, 2021.
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License.