The Coup at 30,000 Feet
Stuck on a plane flying back to Washington, I feared the version of the country I would land in.
T silent. Chest tight and glasses foggy from my KN95 mask, I stood up to see if anyone else was watching cable news. Sitting toward the back of the cabin, I could see most of the light-gray television screens in front of me—cartoons two rows up, across the aisle—but most of the monitors were turned off. It was just after 2:15 p.m. ET, and pro–Donald Trump rioters had breached the Capitol. The flight we were on was headed to Washington, D.C. Somewhere over Illinois, I realized that what
