Marge's is a diner that also puts satellites into low Earth orbit. The pie is baked every morning, the rocket lives out back behind the grain silo, and Tuesday's meatloaf comes with a free payload inspection.
See the Menu Book a LaunchSame routine since 1994, give or take a scrubbed Tuesday.
Sit wherever, unless you booked a launch. Launch customers get booth six. It rattles the least, and the window faces the pad.
Marge takes your eggs and your orbital parameters on the same green pad. If you don't know your inclination, she'll pick one. She's good at it.
Bill fuels Sweet Marge II behind the silo while your pie warms in the case. Neither of those gets rushed. Ask Bill why once, and only once.
Launches go weather and church permitting. Your satellite goes up, your check comes out, and the regulars clap at the window like they didn't clap last week.
The stuff regulars order without looking. Tap a photo for a closer look, or see the full menu and flight manifest.
Lattice crust, sour cherries from the Hendersons' orchard, served warm enough to fog your glasses. Named for the glow.
Two thick slices, mashed potatoes, green beans, roll. Comes with a free payload inspection while you eat. Denise from the co-op does the torque checks.
Eggs, hash browns, bacon, two pancakes. Served all day, because a launch window doesn't care when you woke up.
Refilled before you ask. The menu laminate has a delta-v chart on the back, so you can budget your burn between refills.
Behind the grain silo, past the dumpsters, mind the cat. Launches fly Tuesday through Saturday, weather and church permitting.
Your smallsat rides to low Earth orbit with whoever else is going up that week. Packed in checkered napkins, secured like leftovers, treated better than most passengers.
We mate your satellite to the adapter on the stainless prep table, the one the health inspector likes. The ticket above the station says HANDLE LIKE PIE, and everyone does.
The entire vehicle, your orbit, your schedule, within reason. Sundays are out. Second Tuesdays are bingo, so those are out too.
Marge ran the numbers for the co-op for twenty years before she bought the diner, and she never stopped running numbers. She works out your insertion burn on the same pad she takes your order on, usually between refills, usually faster than the software Bill bought her one Christmas.
She has scrubbed exactly four launches for weather and one for a pie emergency. She stands by all five calls.
Get a Quote From MargeMission control is a feed-store counter in the barn with two monitors older than most of our customers. Bill built the pad himself in '94, pours the propellant like it's syrup, and keeps the big red button under a cover marked ASK MARGE FIRST.
He has never once pushed it without asking Marge first. That rule survived two anniversaries and one tornado warning.
See the Flight Manifest
Every launch customer gets booth six for the duration of their campaign. It has the clearest view of the pad, a plaque, and the table that rattles the least at ignition. Regulars know to clear out on launch days. Most of them stand in the parking lot anyway, holding their coffee.
If the booth is taken when you arrive, someone lied about having a launch. It happens more than you'd think.
See Launch Day PhotosSame math Marge does on the pad, minus her handwriting. The total is an estimate. The pie is a certainty.
Taken down word for word, mostly by Marge, on the pad.
Lunch prices are on the board. Orbit prices are below. Both include coffee.
You can also call, and Marge answers, but she'll tell you to slow down and eat something first. The form skips that part. She calls back between the lunch rush and the 4:15 static fire.
Got it. Marge will call you back between the lunch rush and the 4:15 static fire. If a man answers, that's Bill. Tell him anyway, he writes things down.
Marge rang it up and wrote your name on the launch calendar in pencil, which around here is binding. Food's up in ten. Orbits take a little longer.
Marge's Orbital Launch & Diner