A Cinematic Country

The tour begins with a bumpy descent through New York City cloud cover. The pilot has been saying that it’s going to be a turbulent final thirty minutes—that everyone, including flight attendants, will have to take their seats. That doesn’t make it any less surprising when the clouds outside the windows give way to a low, impenetrable fog, and the plane starts to feel like a tree being shaken to see what fruit it might yield. A nervous flier, I’ve dispensed with Xanax because of all the responsibilities I’ll have upon landing and am now watching the flight path on the seatback-monitor, overcome by mute panic.