With trumpets, glitter, and media buzz fit for a royal birth, Blue Origin launched its latest PR stunt—sorry, space mission. On board: a group of famous women, chosen not for their expertise in astronautics or groundbreaking research, but for their ability to attract followers, clicks, and sponsors.

Headlines overflowed:
“Women in Space!”
“Historic Journey to the Stars!”
“Feminist Milestone – Women Finally Conquer Space!”

But if you read the fine print—the details we usually scroll past—it turns out none of them actually went to space. No, they floated up to the edge where Earth's atmosphere starts flirting with the vacuum of space, tumbled around in a free-falling tin can for a few minutes, felt a little flutter in the stomach, and then fell back to Earth. Literally.

If anything, it was a glorified amusement ride for billionaires with vertigo.

Fake Weightlessness

The most amazing thing about the whole spectacle was how it was sold as an adventure of the same dignity as when Yuri Gagarin risked his life in a metal capsule in the ’60s or when Valentina Tereshkova truly was the first woman in space, alone and brave, orbiting the Earth.

There’s a difference between orbiting the Earth and bobbing like a champagne cork in a hot tub.

But we live in an age where anything can be labeled “groundbreaking.” Like paying millions of dollars to feel the same weightlessness you can get in a specially designed airplane—known as a “vomit comet”—for a fraction of the price.

These planes fly in parabolic arcs and give you 20–30 seconds of weightlessness per dive. Enough time to feel like an astronaut, snap a selfie, puke into a bag, and return home—no training, no education, no insight required.

But that doesn’t sell as well.

A Space Trip That Wasn’t

There’s a commonly used boundary for where space begins—the Kármán line, 100 km above sea level. It’s about where planes run out of air and physicists start raising their eyebrows. Blue Origin’s capsule reaches just about there, sometimes a bit under. It’s like dipping your toe in the ocean and calling it a deep dive.

But the media? They talk about “suborbital space travel” like it's a vacation to the Moon.

Why ruin a good story with physics?

Women in Focus – or Clickbait in Orbit?

Of course women should have a place in space exploration—that should be a given. But one wonders why these particular women were chosen. Was it for their contributions to aerodynamics? Their education in astrophysics? Their experience at NASA?

No. They were famous. Famous for being famous. And maybe that’s where we are today—space as the next reality-TV set. Instead of sending engineers, doctors, and scientists, we’re launching influencers, actresses, and reality stars.

It’s like someone mixed “Big Brother” with “Apollo 13.”

Blue Origin – The New Space Disneyland

Jeff Bezos, founder of both Amazon and Blue Origin, has made a career of repackaging the ordinary as revolutionary. “Wanna experience space?” he asks—then sells you a fall from a high altitude with some choreography, weightlessness, and a parachute. The most sophisticated carnival ride in human history.

And it works. People pay astronomical sums to feel like pioneers. Like Amelia Earhart—with champagne and WiFi.

This isn’t one small step for mankind—it’s a big bounce on a trampoline.

Sell Space – But Sell It Right

The real irony? The exact same feeling of weightlessness can be bought here on Earth for about $5,000—compared to millions to ride Bezos’ sky-castle. The difference? One is filled with stylists, journalists, and hashtags. The other with researchers and nausea.

Want to feel weightless? Book a zero-G flight in the US or Europe. No space suit needed. Same thrill. And if you film it from the right angle, you can still post:
“I touched space 💫 #SpaceQueen”

No one will know the difference.

Conclusion: We Didn’t Fall from the Sky – We Bought Tickets to It

Maybe this is just a sign of the times. In our hunger for meaning, adventure, and likes, we’d rather buy the feeling of being pioneers than become them.

Space is no longer a frontier of scientific curiosity. It’s a photo backdrop.

And the women who flew with Blue Origin? I’m sure they were proud and joyful. But what they did wasn’t conquer space—it was participate in a fall. A very expensive, beautifully staged, weightless fall.

Because today it seems:
“You can apparently buy your way to being called an astronaut and a scientist—and with that, become a role model. Idiocy!”

I got to be weightless for 7.5 minutes