THAT'S GOOD TO KNOW, but I'm hoping we as a species can do better. In July, a few weeks before my Zero Gravity flight, I attended the annual meeting of the Space Frontier Foundation, an 18-year-old organization that promotes privately funded space colonies. The conference is a big draw for space junkies. This year's edition, at the Flamingo Las Vegas, attracted 130 scientists, space buffs, aerospace engineers, industrial designers, and entrepreneurs. Robert Bigelow was there. So was Buzz Aldrin, the Apollo 11 astronaut who walked on the moon with Neil Armstrong.

What lured me to Sin City was the meeting's final session: a two-hour seminar devoted to sex in space, marking the first time the subject has earned an exclusive time slot at a major industry gathering. On the way into this giant horny step for mankind, I was sidetracked by a colorful booth in the exhibition hall, which featured a big sign reading SEX IN SPACE. Science journalist Laura Woodmansee, a zaftig Bette Midler look-alike from Los Angeles, was there plugging her new book of the same name, which covers everything from zero-gravity sex toys to birthing in space.

"Sex is the killer app of space tourism," she said. "Almost everyone who goes up is going to want to try it."

The caterers rolled out a serving cart loaded with ice cream sundaes. "How appropriate," someone said. "There are even cherries."

We were all chowing down when Rick Tumlinson, cofounder of the Space Frontier Foundation, shooed the crowd into the auditorium. Jim Logan took the stage after Woodmansee.

"I've experienced a lot of zero gravity," said Logan, "and my observation is that sex in microgravity is going to be underwhelming. The fantasy is vastly superior to the reality." There were groans and boos from the audience, mostly from the private-sector crowd. I slumped in my chair, feeling despondent as I listened to Logan dash my dreams of becoming a space-sex ninja, only to realize that he wasn't really talking about recreational sex. His main concern was procreation—when a zero-G quickie results in a zero-G pregnancy.

As Logan explained, microgravity depresses the immune system, atrophies muscles, and strains other bodily functions (not enough, however, to prevent a hard-on). The effects of weightlessness on a human fetus could be equally devastating. A successful nine-month space pregnancy could very well produce a child who misses developmental milestones. The poor tyke might never be able to return to Mother Earth for fear of literally being crushed to death by gravity.

Fortunately, Bonta took the stage and gave a cheerful, detailed how-to presentation on sex, complete with PowerPoint slides. One illustration showed a buxom naked woman floating in the arms of a burly man. She went on to explain that sex in space may be especially sweaty and messy. Liquids in zero gravity don't stay put, she said, so "couples will spew various fluids into the air, which will stick to walls, video ports, TV screens, telephones, and the participants themselves." The consequences could be blown fuses and gummed-up circuits.

I was grossed out until Bonta assured us that man's insatiable libido will spur ingenuity. "Love will find a way," she said, adding that, eventually, all spacecraft will be sex-proofed in a manner that prevents shagging couples from destroying their ship.