Take a few minutes to read an excerpt

It was March 1, 1978. I was taking off from Los Angeles on continental Flight 603, and flying to Honolulu to emcee the Miss Hawaii pageant. In 30 Seconds, my life changed forever. I was plunged into a paralyzing terror when the unexpected happened on lift-off. At a speed of 167 miles per hour, three tires blew. A powerful jolt slammed my body forward so tight against the seat belt, I felt severed at the waist. Bounced and rocked, surrounded by screeching crash sounds, I heard an ear splitting crack as one wing clipped the tarmac and shattered. My breath jammed in my throat and the bitter taste of terror invaded my mouth. I was going to die.

Pandemonium was everywhere: brittle sounds of the plane's cabin breaking apart, panels popping from the ceiling at crazy angles. I cringed at the sight of loose luggage flying through the air and bouncing off panicked passengers--a darkened movie screen collapsed on a heap.

Flight attendants screamed, "Tighten your seat belts! Tighten your seat belts! Then, someone yelled, "Head between your knees -- Grab your ankles! Head between your knees -- Grab your ankles!"

Just before I ducked my head down, I glanced, terrified, out the window. We were racing along the runway toward a fenced in car lot crammed with cars. My heart pounded in my ears and my body shook violently. Eerie silence plagued the entire cabin and I witnessed the fear of death on the faces around me. I dropped my head down, gripped my ankles and immersed myself in a strange union of dread and anticipation.

I had heard that your life passes before you when you die. My life was such a mess for so long, I didn't want to see it. For thirty years, I had suppressed a childhood plagued by family alcoholism and violence. At six I was hospitalized for malnutrition, and at sixteen my dream of becoming an Olympic skier was snuffed out when I had heart surgery. In my twenties, I hated my body and battled the ups and downs of diet pills, the shame of bulimia -- vomiting, fasting, and bingeing. The men I loved had rejected me, and my deepening sense of unworthiness kept me on the brink of suicide. Now, at last, my wish would come true. In a matter seconds, I would be dead.

The aircraft was hurtling off the end of the runway with a load of passengers and a belly filled with lethal fuel, and I suddenly felt better than I had at any other time in my life. An all-encompassing calm had descended upon me. Overcome by a rush of warmth and euphoria, I succumbed to a sensation of profound serenity. Joy and peace -- tranquil calm descended over me, shrouding me in white light. In no time in my life had I felt such love. I wondered, is this what it was like to die? Was this the mysterious culminating grace, or just a normal reaction before death? Did my comrades feel insulated from their fate by peace and unconditional love? Did they hear what I perceived to be an inner voice speaking a message in the most obtrusive way?

As the plane skidded and bounced, I was forced to question my existence on earth. I heard the screech of metal tearing along the left side of the craft. Crash sounds intensified to a roaring din. Seconds before slamming into the car lot, the plane skidded and ground to a halt.  My neck jerked back and my hands flew from my ankles. The aircraft had burst into flames and I was entombed in silence.

I slowly raised my head from between my knees. The left side of the cabin had been destroyed and the right fuselage was slanted upward, as if someone had jacked it up some twenty feet in the air. Flames billowed outside my window. What remained of the left wing was engulfed in smoke and yet, I sat suspended in a state of bless. My shield of light was still with me.

An attendant yelled, "Come to the Rear! Come to the Rear!" Frightened passengers swarmed into the aisle to save themselves. Like a remote-controlled robot, I unbuckled my seat belt and advanced into the crowd. I collided with bodies whose only thought was to escape before the plane exploded and trapped them inside. When I reached the end of the sixth row, I spied the exit door, and before I could reach it, the pushing from behind popped me out of line like a gum-ball from a vending machine. I tumbled backwards on the tilted cabin floor, fell head first and slid helplessly on my stomach toward the open exit door and the raging blaze outside.

Heat seared my skin, smoke assaulted my lungs and savage flames engulfed the entire exit of the cabin. If this was hell, I wanted out. Fool, I thought, it's too late for you. Prepare yourself for a slow and painful death. Suddenly when there was nothing more than air to prevent me from falling, I stopped moving. I stared into the wall of flames outside and again heard the calming inner voice.

I lay sprawled on my stomach, hands stretched out before me, transfixed by a toxic bonfire. Sweat streaming down my face, I sobbed out, "No -- no -- no -- and no!" Inches from my body, a burst of red-orange flame seared my skin and left me gasping. Just when I had no more than thirty seconds before melting into death, I knew with incredible certainty I had to stay alive. I screamed, "Please -- I want to live!"