the six passengers arrive at the launch pad a few hours before dawn. They watch as the giant balloon, its material thin as a hair’s breadth, is filled with helium until it towers over their little capsule. The pilot and copilot repeat the safety procedures: Buckle your safety belt during launch and landing, no smoking in the lavatory. The passengers strap in, the hatch is sealed, and the capsule and balloon are released. Two hours later, they’re in what looks to most people like outer space.
By the time it stops rising, the balloon has expanded to about 40 million cubic feet, the size of a football stadium. It floats in the top of the sensible atmosphere like an ice cube in a glass of water; it drifts slightly, but to the passengers, it feels virtually stationary. There’s no engine roar, no humming machinery; the capsule is as quiet as a library. A gourmet breakfast is served, perhaps with mimosas from the bar. A few passengers slip on headphones to enjoy their own soundtracks for the sunrise. Even after the sun emerges from behind the blue-rimmed curve of Earth, at 100,000 feet, stars are visible in the black sky.
After a couple of hours of floating, it’s time to come home. The pilot flips a switch and the capsule detaches from the balloon, floating leisurely back to Earth under a parachute.
You can make a reservation today for a trip just like this. And although it won’t happen this year, or even next, soon you can become a member of a very elite group: those who have traveled to the top of the stratosphere.