Disaster Area

It's late at night, and you're sleeping soundly until you're awakened by a stench that makes your stomach roll. You hack and cough as your eyes burn. You can barely breathe. So you grab your spouse and your kids, and you run. You run, not just by yourself, but with everyone in your neighborhood, all of you trying to escape a silent killer.

At 9:02 AM on April 19th, 1995, an explosion rocked the downtown area of Oklahoma City, Oklahoma. When people saw the devastated Alfred P. Murrah federal building, many thought at first it was a natural gas explosion. But it turned out to be something much more sinister.

Being the only survivor of a plane crash is difficult enough. Being the only survivor when you were the one in the cockpit is another level of tragic.

In the early 1900s, the coal fields of West Virginia were a tough place to work. With the mine owners keeping a tight grip on their wallets, miners got cheated out of their rightful earnings left, right, and center. From 1912 to 1922, southern West Virginia became a hotbed of miners who refused to take the mine owners' disrespect any longer.

Imagine you get up at the crack of dawn for a work trip, drag your tired body to the airport, and get onto a plane that sits in a line to take off for another forty minutes. You may think things can't get any worse. You would be wrong.

As Hurricane Rita approached Texas in September of 2005, three million people evacuated the Houston area, among them a busload of thirty-seven residents from the Brighton Gardens of Bellaire assisted living facility. Twenty-three of them would ever make it to their destination alive.

It was a clear winter's day, and there was no reason to think the trip to school on bus #27 would be any different than any other day. But as driver John DeRossett steered the bus around the curve after Knottly Hollow, what happened next would devastate the entirety of Floyd County, Kentucky.

One hundred years ago this month, the Greenwood district of Tulsa - arguably the most prosperous Black community in America - faced one of the darkest, most shameful days in American history.

On a warm Friday night in July, 2013, over a hundred people were enjoying the comfortable atmosphere and enjoyable music at the Musi-Cafe, a popular local bar in Lac-Megantic, Quebec. Then at quarter after one, the ground began to shake as a runaway train barrel down the local tracks with no one at the controls. What happened next would destroy a town both physically and emotionally.

It was the start of the winter ski season on November 11th, 2000, and the skiers and snowboarders heading up to the Kitzsteinhorn glacier on the funicular train were excited for the day to begin. But in only a few minutes, everybody aboard the funicular in Kaprun, Austria, would be fighting to survive inside a tunnel so close to help, yet so very far away.