“The tip of the plane’s wing hit a boulder on the edge of Otay Mountain, and it killed everyone on board,” McEntire told Oprah. “When we were notified, Narvel went to our pilot and told him what had happened.”
“When Narvel returned to the hotel room where I was — two or three a.m. — and said one of the planes had crashed, I asked, ‘Are they OK?’ ‘I don’t think so,’ he responded. ‘But you’re not sure?’ I asked. ‘I don’t think so,’ he replied.”
According to McEntire, they were anxious to learn the specifics of the catastrophe.
“Narvel was going room to room with a phone, ringing…” she said, pausing as tears rose. “I’m sorry – it’s been 20 years, but I don’t think it ever stops hurting,” she added. “But, I can see that chamber. Narvel is pacing back and forth.”
Friends like Vince Gill and Dolly Parton offered McEntire their bands to finish the tour, but she declined. For My Broken Heart, her next album was dedicated to the band members she had lost, and it debuted at No. 1 on the Billboard Top Country Albums chart, selling four million copies.
On the anniversary of the tragedy, McEntire regularly pays tribute to those who died that day. She used Instagram to commemorate the crash anniversary in 2014. On the 25th anniversary of the tragedy in 2016, she took a memorable trip to San Diego and shared it with admirers on social media.
McEntire wrote, “Today is the 25th anniversary of the plane accident.” “In November last year, I returned to San Diego and took a helicopter to the accident site. I have a feeling they realize how much we miss them. My heartfelt condolences and prayers go out to all the families and friends.”
Privileged Parents Excused Their Child for Kicking My Seat on the Flight, Claiming “He’s Just a Kid!”, Karma Delivered Them a Teachable Moment
On a long flight, a woman’s patience is tested by a child who kicks her seat and parents who ignore the disruption. What begins as a frustrating ordeal soon takes a surprising turn, revealing that karma has a way of delivering unexpected lessons.
As I settled into my aisle seat for a seven-hour flight, I hoped for some much-needed relaxation. With a book in hand, noise-canceling headphones on, and a good playlist ready, I thought I was prepared for the journey ahead. The cabin was packed and the air felt stuffy, but I was willing to endure it for a peaceful trip.
Then it began. A soft thumping at the back of my seat started to grow louder. Initially, I dismissed it, thinking a child was just adjusting in their seat. But the thumping became a steady rhythm, kick, kick, kick, each hit harder than the last.
I turned around and saw a boy, around six or seven, swinging his legs and grinning as if he were having a great time. His sneakers repeatedly slammed into my seat, creating a mini drum concert. His parents, seated nearby, were glued to their phones, completely unaware of the chaos their child was causing. I hoped the boy would tire out soon, or that his parents would notice, but the kicks only intensified.
After what felt like an eternity, I finally decided I couldn’t ignore it any longer. I turned around, offering a polite smile and asked the parents to ask their son to stop kicking my seat. The mother barely acknowledged me, dismissing my request with a “He’s just a kid!” before returning to her phone. I tried again, but the father was too engrossed in a video to care. Sensing his parents’ indifference, the boy kicked even harder, laughing as if he were winning some game at my expense.
I pressed the call button for the flight attendant, hoping she could help. She arrived, friendly and professional, and I explained the situation. She approached the family, asking them kindly to stop the boy from kicking my seat. For a brief moment, there was silence.
But as soon as she walked away, the kicks resumed, even more forceful this time. Frustrated, I stood up and spoke louder, asking them again to control their child. The mother rolled her eyes, and the father muttered something dismissive. The boy laughed and kicked harder. At this point, I was fed up. I called the attendant again, asking if I could switch to another seat. She returned shortly with good news: there was a seat available in first class.
Without hesitation, I grabbed my belongings and followed her to the front of the plane. The first-class section was a welcome relief, spacious, quiet, and free of children. I settled into my new seat, and the tension melted away. I was finally able to relax, enjoying a drink and diving into my book.
As the flight continued smoothly, I overheard the attendants talking about my old seatmates. The boy had found a new target for his kicks, an elderly woman who had taken my place. When she asked him to stop, the mother snapped at her, escalating the situation to a shouting match that caught the attention of the flight crew. I felt a twinge of sympathy for the elderly woman but couldn’t deny the poetic justice unfolding. As we prepared to land, I noticed security vehicles waiting by the gate.
When we disembarked, I saw the family being escorted off the plane by security officers. The boy, who had been so bold earlier, was now crying, clinging to his mother. The parents looked embarrassed, no longer the dismissive people they had been. I left the airport feeling a sense of satisfaction that surprised me. Karma had intervened, allowing me to enjoy my first-class experience and witness a bit of justice served.
As I walked past the family, I couldn’t help but smile at them. It was a small gesture, but it felt like the closure I needed. Sometimes, the universe has a way of balancing things out, and that day, it certainly did. With my book finished and my flight experience greatly improved, I walked away with a story that would surely entertain friends in the future.
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