Until there's a cure, perhaps weary travelers should embrace author Pico Iyer's outlook: "Because jet lag is so much a part of my life now, I tell myself I will make the most of it; attend to it, enjoy its disruptions, as I would those of a geographically foreign place."
When we go on EMS calls we likely need to fly folks off the island (there's no hospital here). When we do we work closely with our air assets, choppers, small planes, etc. and the incredibly skilled pilots and flight nurses inside them. Apparently, when they depart, each air asset needs to account for people on the plane (in the case they crash) and they do this by counting the number of souls aboard. They don't differentiate between crew and patient/s as each alive person is a soul aboard, dogs are not counted as a soul aboard, neither are cadavers or unborn children (which makes me think it's not a religious remnant).
I knew the feeling that had come over her: The moment of departure. Something I’ve forgotten. Where is it? What is it? But the soul has already taken off, light and swift on its journey. The body lags behind, vacates, deadweight, slow to move on.