So.
You strap yourself onto a rocket that contains more than a half-million gallons of a highly explosive liquid hydrogen/liquid oxygen mixture, encased in an aluminum-lithium alloy that's but 1/8 of an inch thick. In addition, you're also propelled by twin solid booster rockets, the most powerful rocket known to man. Put it together, and the total force provides around 7 million pounds of thrust to push you up and through the atmosphere before they detach and fall back to earth. Combined, these propel you to somewhere around 17,000 mph. (There are no soft landings at 17,000 mph, I'm fairly certain.)
Once in outer space, if you were to accidentally become exposed to the vacuum of space, the pressure gradient would suck the air out of your lungs. The oxygen in your blood would try to empty into your lungs to equalize the pressure. This, combined with the evaporation of any moisture on your person, would cause almost-instant death, as your brain starves on deoxygenated blood.
Faced with only these two realities - nevermind all of the other things that could go and have gone wrong - I'd want a fucking drink or 12 also.
Cut these guys some slack. They're heroes. (Yeah, even the crazy one who put on an adult diaper and drove across three states to confront her love rival. That was dedication.)
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