“This is sort of choose your own adventure,” Ryan Pettit, a technical fellow with Boeing’s flight-controls division, told me. We were sitting in the pilot seats of a multipurpose simulator cab. From the inside, it looked like the flight deck of a 777, complete with banks of gauges, switches, and digital screens, and a view of Mt. Rainier through the windshield. From the outside, it looked like a giant, one-eyed robot: a cabin perched on three mechanical legs more than two stories tall. In months of chasing turbulence, the closest I’d come to it on a commercial flight was in Texas, when a thunderstorm struck my plane just as it was preparing to land in Austin. “Folks, it looks like it’ll be smooth sailing for the first hour and forty-five minutes,” the pilot had warned, as we left New York. “Then it’s all downhill from there.” But this simulator was nothing if not reliable. It was turbulence on demand.
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Last March, Faye had a laparoscopy and says before the procedure, her surgeon said: "I can't wait for you to wake up and me tell you that I didn't find anything because we're not going to find endometriosis."