Free Miles To Go Before I Sleep by Jackie Nink Pflug

reservations so many times, but he’d remembered that I was on the last EgyptAir flight leaving Athens on Saturday night.
    â€œI’m out of here,” Scott told Peter, the other CAC chaperone in Athens.
    Scott hailed a cab to the EgyptAir office at the Athens airport. On the way to the airport, he listened to a British Broadcasting Corporation (BBC) news report on the hijacking:
    Late last evening at 9:37 P.M ., EgyptAir Flight 648 was hijacked by members of a terrorist group calling themselves “The Egypt Revolution.” The hijackers’ original destination was said to be Libya, but the plane was low on fuel and was forced to land at Malta’s Luqa Airport.
    The hijackers demanded fuel to be able to continue on to Libya. They threatened to begin executing passengers every fifteen minutes until their demands were met. Two Israeli women were shot and thrown from the plane. One apparently managed to survive.
    An American, Patrick Baker, was also shot. His condition remains unknown. Two American women are also on board: Scarlett Rogencamp, of Oceanside, California, and Jackie Nink Pflug, of Pasadena, Texas. Negotiations for the release of the ninety-eight hostages continue….
    When Scott arrived at the EgyptAir office, they were expecting him. He spent several frustrating hours at the EgyptAir counter, waiting for more news but learning nothing new. The only thing EgyptAir could verify was that I was on the flight. They didn’t know any details beyond that.
    Scott hung out there for two or three hours, then got fed up and left. Before leaving, he heard news reports that I’d been shot in the face and had a broken nose. It was still very sketchy.

    The early hours of the hijacking were hard on my family and friends back home. My parents learned of the hijacking from the Saturday night news.
    My mom had a sinking feeling as she watched the images on her TV screen. I’d written a week earlier to tell them I’d be in Greece with Scott and the girls’ volleyball team that Thanksgiving weekend.
    â€œOh, my God, I think Jackie is on that plane!” she said.
    During the first few hours of the crisis, information was incomplete. There was confusion about exactly what happened. From the early news accounts, they still didn’t know if I was, indeed, a passenger on the plane.
    No one in my family knew exactly who to call for more information on the hijacking. Gloria called Channel 2 and said, “I think my sister is on that plane.”
    â€œWhere do your parents live?” the Channel 2 reporter asked, smelling a news story in the making.
    â€œI can’t tell you that,” Gloria said.
    A reporter from Channel 2 called back to say that I was on the plane. The reporter also contacted the U.S. State Department and, from then on, the State Department stayed in close contact with my family.
    Barb Wilson called my friend Debbie Reno to ask if she was watching television. “You might want to turn on CNN,” Barb said. “They have something about Jackie on.”
    â€œWhat?” Debbie said.
    â€œThe plane Jackie was on was hijacked,” Barb reported, “and she has been shot. They think she might be dead.”
    When Debbie got off the phone, she called a prayer hot line at her church to pray for me.
    Mom and Dad only got an hour’s sleep on Saturday night. A spokesperson from the State Department called every thirty minutes with updates on the hijacking.
    The early news offered little comfort.
    At about 2 A.M ., the phone rang again. My dad answered.
    â€œI’m sorry to have to tell you this,” the State Department spokesperson said, “but your daughter is dead.”
    â€œWhat does she look like?” Dad asked.
    â€œShe’s blonde,” he answered.
    â€œNo, she’s not,” he said, “Jackie is dark.”
    On further checking, the State Department discovered it had confused me with Scarlett Rogencamp, who had light