On a flight from Salt Lake City to Charlotte, I sat next to a visibly distressed woman in her late forties. She rocked back and forth, whispering names to herself, and seemed deeply troubled. Mid-flight, during turbulence, I heard her whisper, “I have to do it. I have to say goodbye.” When I asked if she was okay, she only said she needed to do something she should’ve done long ago.
The Flight Made Me Uncomfortable—Until I Learned What She Was Hiding
