It does not hurt that he is way smart, with expertise in a wide-enough range of things scientific to matter. He is the poster boy for positive attitude. He is armored and well supplied with the sort of can-do designer genes that might make the rest of us feel like the can’t-do sorts we are. I'm going with the former, as he is indeed made of the right stuff. Watney is either a cock-eyed optimist or an idiot. It would be a very, very short last dance.
Most of us might give serious consideration to minimizing the guaranteed pain, frustration, starvation and inevitable death by, maybe, taking a short hustle outside sans that special suit.
For example, the music he has for his stay consists of disco. No, Kibby (the 12-year-old kibitzer who infects my brain), no Mars Attacks brain beasts, or that other guy, even though I know he is your favorite. And if that was not enough he faces an array of other challenges. It does, offer, however, extremely harsh (good for scouring that burned on gunk from sauce pans) and long-lasting (as in months) dust storms. And that Martian atmosphere is definitely no fun, lacking stuff like, oh, breathable air, and a reasonable range of temperature.
Supplies on hand were only meant to cover a few weeks, maybe months. Dude missed his ride and there will not be another along for, oh, four years. Astronaut Mark Watney is definitely more screwed than most of us have ever been. These are the opening words of The Martian. How many have said them at least twice? Three times? Four? Those with hands still up, you probably need to make some adjustments to your approach, find a safer line of work, hobbies that do not entail long drops, stop trying the weekly specials at McBlowfish, or seek out people to date who are into less extreme…um…sports. Not everyone? I see we have some liars out there. How many of you have uttered these exact words? (or words to that effect). I’m pretty much fucked.Ok, show of hands.
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