This happened to Jackie Pflug and I’m currently reading her book “Miles to Go Before I Sleep.” Here is just a one paragraph excerpt from the book’s summary on the inside flap:
On Thanksgiving weekend in November 1985, Jackie Pflug was a passenger on Egypt Air Flight 648 enroute from Athens to Cairo when it was hijacked shortly after takeoff. After the plane landed in Malta, millions watched in horror as the hijackers singled out Israeli and American citizens for execution. Early on Sunday morning, Jacke was shot in the head at point-blank range, pushed out of the plane, and left for dead on the tarmac. As the siege continued, television cameras showed medics dragging her body to a van bound for the morgue.
Needless to say, she was not dead. She survived the ordeal and wrote an amazing and moving biography portraying her exciting life abroad before the hijacking, details of the actual hijacking and her slow and frustrating recovery from her brain injury. I’m just over half way through the book now.
Those who know me probably know that I rarely read fiction, it bores the heck out of me. Why would anyone want to read fiction when real life is so riveting and real people can teach us so much by sharing how they overcame insurmountable obstacles?
