I was six years old when Apollo 11 landed. My memories of it are vague, but I know that my 8-year old brother was totally into it, and I think my dad was pretty excited too. I have a picture in my head of the whole family gathered around the living room TV, which may or may not be accurate.
I don’t stream Amazon. My connection’s too slow to bother streaming much of anything; but if it weren’t I still might not, the computer’s too distracting as it is.
Presuming that I can see outside, and am not too close to the equator: I can figure out the season, and so could find north eventually, at least the general direction, by sun shadows; though around the equinoxes that would be harder. I just checked my vague impression of how to find Polaris, and it was wrong entirely. If I’m in my same location (which I can get a pretty good idea of also if I can see outside), I can also find north fairly precisely because I can see one of the Finger Lakes and I know it’s oriented quite close to north to south along the length of the lake.
I voted “fairly confident” because the question doesn’t make it clear whether I might be somewhere right near the equator; in which case no, I probably couldn’t.
I was at college orientation during the first moon landing. There was a big TV in the student union, and IIRC they aimed it at the windows so that people who couldn’t fit in the room could watch it from outside. I don’t remember whether I came inside or watched from outside – I remember seeing it through the window, but I might have been on my way in.
During the day, if it’s not cloudy, I could find north (roughly speaking) in the morning or the evening, by the relative position of the sun. At night (again, if it’s not cloudy), I can find Polaris (and, thus, north) if I can spot Ursa Major.
XIII, which makes it easy to remember as the ill-fated one.
I was in high school (senior year) for the moon landing, and it wasn’t high on my radar. I watched it, but I was kinda bored.
I really do not like tuna sandwiches. My sister loves them and binges every once in a while. I’d complain about the smell, but then I love shrimp chips which have quite the lovely scent when I first open a bag. There was a restaurant near us that made a seared ahi steak with a seeded top and a yuzu soy glaze. Yummy!
I have read all of his stuff, actually, but that story was but a dim memory.
My house faces east, which I can tell because the morning sun shines through the front windows, and because I’ve looked at it on Google Maps.
My couch, being perpendicular to the front of the house, faces north. Which means whenever I get up off the couch I stand in the place where I live, and I face north. And I have thought about directions before.
The north side of my house faces east.
So where does the east side face?
I guess that makes it south?
And now I have The Who in my head.
I have an edge because I grew up in Albuquerque. The mountains are east, so I’m used to starting from that point and going from there. I get disoriented in Denver, because the mountains are on the wrong side.
Try being on the West Coast when you grew up near the East Coast. The ocean’s on the wrong side.
I had no idea that my mind considered “east” and “toward the nearest ocean” to be synonyms until I travelled out west. It was very disorienting.
(And in multiple places the Earth was the “wrong” color. Not just a particular cliff face, but the general planet underfoot. Travel broadens the mind, sometimes in ways that you weren’t expecting.)
I grew up in Las Cruces (same issue) and then to Colorado Springs (same issue). I’ve been in Colorado long enough to retrain myself… until I go visit the folks in Cruces and get disoriented. Okay, not really, since in Cruces the mountains are not NEARLY as prominent as they are in Colorado’s front range. 
I had a similar experience. The plane was approaching Outagamie airport. It was mid-April. The land below us was a brownish color. Where I come from, evergreens are pervasive. It never looks brown from overhead.
Tilled farm fields are brownish from overhead, here. So is the soil beneath leaves in a forest – very dark brown, often, but brown.
The planet really is orange-red in, for instance, Georgia (USA: I don’t know what color it is in the other Georgia.) The back of my head thought I might be on Mars.
I wasn’t sure how to answer the finding north question. Could I, right now, on the spur of the moment, do something to determine which way is north? Unlikely. Could I sit in one spot for 24 hours and watch the movement of the sun and the stars, and then tell you? Sure.
I grew up on clay loam. The soil is supposed to be orangish-brown, not black.
Mrs Magill however, is relieved that the soil is a “proper color.”
That reminds me of the time we turned onto the highway toward Red Canyon, but there was a traffic jam waiting for the highway department to clean up after the flash flood that just rolled through, and we ended up stuck sitting on the bridge as the swollen, muddy Sevier river growled under us. Ten days later, as we drove into north-central New Mexico, I said, “Look over there, what the hell, that river is not red!”
I might be a bit optimistic on my probability of surviving.
The question about being nervous about throwing out the first pitch needs the option
"I would be laughing too hard to be nervous "
Growing up in Los Angeles, I was used to mountains on the north and ocean on west. When I went to Hawaii, it was mountains in the middle and the ocean all around. I had trouble with my compass directions the whole time I was there.
I had no interest in any of those questions – just skipped them.