“You finished?”
I handed her mine.
Then asked:
“Have the pilots mentioned turbulence?”
She smiled.
“Nothing significant.”
“Any weather ahead?”
“Not that I’ve heard.”
She noticed I was still staring outside.
“Are you nervous about flying?”
The irony almost made me laugh.
“No.”
Another slight movement.
My eyes narrowed.
The flight attendant followed my gaze.
“What are you looking at?”
“The wing.”
“Why?”
I waited through one more cycle.
Then said:
“Because that isn’t turbulence.”
Her smile faded.
“What is it?”
“I don’t know.”
That answer frightened her more than anything dramatic would have.
She lowered her voice.
“What do you mean?”
“Have you felt the airplane gently rocking every twenty or thirty seconds?”
She stood still.
Now that I had pointed it out, she noticed.
“Yes.”
“Has it been doing that long?”
“Maybe ten minutes.”
I looked toward the ceiling.
No seatbelt sign.
No announcements.
“Tell the cockpit a passenger noticed a repeating roll correction.”
She stared at me.
“A repeating what?”
“Just say exactly that.”
“Are you a pilot?”
I hesitated.
That hesitation cost me anonymity.
“Yes.”
“What kind?”
“Former military.”
Her expression changed instantly.
Not admiration.
Urgency.
She walked away.
I regretted telling her.
Thirty seconds later, the aircraft moved more sharply.
Several passengers looked up.
A drink fell from a tray.
Then the nose seemed to drop.
Not dramatically.
Just enough for my stomach to register the difference before my mind did.
A second later, the engines changed tone.
The airplane leveled again.
The seatbelt sign came on.
The captain’s voice followed.
“Ladies and gentlemen, please remain seated with your seatbelts fastened. We’re experiencing some minor atmospheric disturbance.”
