OK, so where are the space odysseys? You know what I'm talking about-joy rides in moon buggies, kitschy photos in front of the flag, floating without a care in the Sea of Tranquility. 

International Space Station? That thing? Well if you happen to be a highly-trained astronaut or a millionaire like Dennis Tito, it's probably pretty cool, but what about the rest of us? Our flight is delayed. Really delayed. In fact, we're not even on the tarmac. Nobody is offering flights to the moon in 2001. Not a human nor a monolith will be found.

And who's to blame? The airlines, of course. Airlines like Pan Am and TWA raised our expectations for making it to the Moon (both airlines began accepting reservations at the peak of space age optimism in the late 60s).

Actually, the idea of taking a space vacation wasn't as far-fetched as it seemed. NASA announced their intention for building a fully functioning lunar colony by the mid-1980s. 

The fantasy seemed to be on the cusp of reality in late 1968 when, during a break in TV transmissions of the Apollo 8 mission, Pan Am's president, Juan Trippe called ABC-TV to make an announcement: his airline would begin accepting reservations for future moon flights. The next morning, December 25, 1968, The New York Times reported that Pan Am had been deluged by inquiries. Thinking quickly, the air carrier established the First Moon Flights Club, which, in reality, was nothing more than a prioritized waiting list.

Was it possible? No less an authority than space pioneer Wernher von Braun was confidently predicting a "sizable operation on the moon" with "regular flights between the earth and the near planets" by the year 2000.

And the public was eager, too. By the time the airline closed out its list in 1971, Pan Am (whose name was emblazoned on the shuttle in Stanley Kubrick's "2001: A Space Odyssey") had a list of over 93,000 people, including future president Ronald Reagan. 

Rivals TWA (whose name had been attached to a rocket in Disneyland's Tomorrowland) realized what they were missing out on a publicity bonanza so they announced they were accepting "informal reservations" on TV ads. Was a fare war looming? Experts estimated a round trip ticket, based on six cents an air mile, was $28,000 (not including local taxes and landing fees). But what a trip-cocktails at sunset at some luxurious orbiting Hilton watching sunrises back on Mother Earth.

It's still palpable. Like we can taste it. That's because public enthusiasm for space tourism has never really diminished. It just hasn't panned out, except for the lucky few on the International Space Station.

Who knows? Perhaps in the year 2101 those vacations will finally get booked. Until then, all of us on terra firma can only say: wish we were there.