Airport staff kicked Maira Norris out, but regretted it when her father, Chuck Norris, arrived.
Myra Norris stood in the bustling airport terminal, her heart racing as she clutched her boarding pass. At seventeen, she was flying alone for the first time, heading to a martial arts camp in Chicago. She wore a simple hoodie and jeans, blending in with the crowd, but her nerves were palpable. As she approached the business class check-in, she felt a wave of anxiety wash over her.
“Is this your ticket, sweetheart, or are you borrowing it from someone who actually flies business class?” The voice was lazy and dismissive. Tina, the attendant, looked Myra up and down, her smirk revealing a lack of respect.
Myra handed over her ID and boarding pass, trying to remain calm. “It’s mine. I’m Myra Norris.”
Tina leaned in, her eyes narrowing. “Oh, would you look at that? Myra Norris, huh? Let me guess, you’re going to some kind of karate thing?”
“Martial arts camp,” Myra replied evenly.
Tina snorted. “Your daddy signed you up for that, huh? What, you think he’s Chuck Norris or something?”
Myra’s heart sank. “He is.”
Tina burst out laughing, drawing the attention of others in line. “Oh honey, please! You seriously expect me to believe that? Just slapping the name Norris on an ID doesn’t make you a celebrity kid.”
Myra’s cheeks burned, but she held her ground. “I can show you the email confirmation.”
Tina’s expression shifted, her voice dropping. “You know what I think? I think you swiped that ticket from somebody. Or maybe you’re running a scam. Kids do that.”
Before Myra could respond, two security guards approached. “Ma’am, step away from the counter,” one barked.
“This is a mistake!” Myra protested, but they grabbed her arms, pulling her back. “I haven’t done anything wrong!”
The guards yanked her backpack from her grip, tossing it onto a table. They began rifling through her belongings—her notebook, practice gloves, and toiletries scattered everywhere. Myra’s heart raced as she watched her life’s essentials being treated like contraband.
“Let’s see what you’re hiding,” one guard said, holding up a small bottle of liquid. “What’s this?”
“My muscle recovery spray,” Myra whispered, her voice trembling. “I’m not smuggling anything!”
“Yeah, right,” the guard scoffed. “You’re just a kid trying to lie your way past real security.”
Myra felt the weight of their judgment. She was just a teenager, not a criminal. Panic surged through her as she remembered the call she had made to her father just moments before.
“Dad, I’m at the airport. They’re not believing me,” she had said, her voice shaky.
“Stay calm, pumpkin. I’ll be there soon,” Chuck Norris had replied, his voice steady and reassuring.
But now, as she stood there, surrounded by people who saw her as a threat, she felt utterly alone. Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and she quickly answered. “Dad, they’re taking my ticket! They think it’s fake!”
“Stay right where you are. I’ll be there in ten minutes,” he said firmly.
As she hung up, Myra’s backpack was emptied, and the contents spilled out. Among them was a small ceramic mug, a keepsake from her late father. It rolled across the floor and shattered into pieces. Myra dropped to her knees, desperate to gather the shards, her heart breaking.
“Didn’t you say your dad’s Chuck Norris?” Tina taunted, arms crossed. “Which is it, sweetheart? Your real dad, some martial arts movie star, or some dead guy with a busted coffee mug?”
Myra felt a surge of rage. She stood up, fists clenched, and in a moment of instinct, she kicked out at the nearest guard, sending him stumbling. The chaos erupted as she fought back, desperate to be seen, to be heard.
Just then, a calm voice cut through the noise. “Enough!” A man in a dark gray blazer approached, his presence commanding attention. “I’m Charles, the terminal supervisor.”
The guards froze, and Myra felt a flicker of hope. “Let her go,” Charles ordered, and the guards released her.
Myra stood, trembling but defiant. Charles knelt to pick up the largest shard of her mug. “Family honor, split clean through,” he said softly, meeting her eyes. “Let’s talk somewhere quiet.”
As they moved away from the chaos, Myra felt a mix of relief and anxiety. Charles explained that there had been an issue with her ticket, and they needed to verify her identity. Myra pulled out her phone, ready to show the email from her father.
“Chuck Norris?” Charles raised an eyebrow, disbelief evident in his voice. “You expect me to believe that?”
“Yes! He’s my dad!” Myra insisted, her voice rising.
Charles sighed, clearly skeptical. “Until we can verify full payment and identity, your boarding is denied.”
Myra’s heart sank. “You can’t just cancel my ticket!”
“Step aside,” he said curtly, motioning for the guards to escort her out.
Myra felt defeated as she walked away, her heart heavy. But just as she reached the exit, she heard a familiar voice. “Myra!”
Chuck Norris strode into the terminal, his presence commanding attention. The crowd hushed as he approached. “What’s going on?” he asked, concern etched on his face.
“They think my ticket is fake,” Myra whispered, tears welling in her eyes.
Chuck turned to the guards and Charles, his voice steady. “Someone better start talking right now.”
Charles stammered, trying to explain the situation, but Chuck’s gaze was unwavering. “You treated my daughter like a criminal. She deserves respect, not suspicion.”
The tension in the air shifted as Chuck’s
Chuck Norris – Third Round and K.O.
“When I starred in my first successful film, Good Guys Wear Black (1978), the critics crucified me. They said I was the worst actor they had seen since the days of silent films. I was very hurt and talked to Steve McQueen about it. Steve told me: ‘Don’t worry about the critics. What matters is what the audience thinks. If people are going to see your movies, it doesn’t matter what the critics say.’ Steve was absolutely right, and for more than 30 years, I’ve followed his advice.”
“Interpersonal relationships are the only thing that matters in the world. The rest is dust in the wind.”
Another important piece of advice McQueen gave Norris – and one he never forgot – was this: “I suggest you shorten all your dialogues. Let the other actors handle the trivial lines, and when there’s something important to say, you’ll be the one to say it. That’s what I did in my film Bullitt. I had a scene with Robert Vaughn, where I was supposed to respond with three paragraphs. I crossed everything out and just said: ‘You work your side of the street, I’ll work mine.’ People still remember that. Remember, sometimes less is more.”
Arachnophobia is the fear of spiders, claustrophobia is the fear of closed spaces, the fear of Chuck Norris is called Logic.
Chuck Norris highlights one film above all the others he starred in: The Octagon (1980):
“It was the biggest and best martial arts film of my career. There were lots of fight scenes, but I remember one in particular. We were filming inside a closed structure – the ninjas’ headquarters. We started the scenes at 6:00 PM, and by 4:00 in the morning, everyone was exhausted, including me.”
“The director told the fight coordinator – my brother Aaron – that we would finish the next day. So Aaron sent home four stuntmen I was supposed to fight. Five minutes later, the director changed his mind and decided to keep filming. Aaron protested, saying the stuntmen had already left, but the director told him to solve the problem.”
“There were two more stuntmen,” Norris continues, “who weren’t part of the original cast, but were still on set, so Aaron recruited them. Their identities would be hidden by the ninja masks and costumes, so there wouldn’t be any continuity issues. Aaron decided to play the third ninja himself, but we still needed one more.”
“At that point, one of the extras, a young and well-built guy, volunteered. Aaron asked if he had ever worked as a stuntman, and he said, ‘No, but I’m in great shape and I think I can do it.’ Aaron said, ‘Chuck makes some contact when he strikes – are you sure you’re okay with that?’ The young man said it was no problem.”
“Aaron gave the young man a ninja outfit and set up the scene in which I was supposed to enter a maze and be attacked by all four. The inexperienced guy was to grab me from behind, I’d kick him in the stomach, and he’d fall down. After the rehearsal, I told Aaron to put some padding under the guy’s costume so I wouldn’t have to worry about hurting him. But he refused, saying, ‘The others don’t wear padding – I don’t need to either.’”
The cameras started rolling, the director Eric Karson shouted “Action,” and “when the young guy tried to grab me, I kicked him in the stomach. His eyes rolled back and he collapsed to the floor, groaning. ‘Oh no,’ I thought, ‘I hurt him!’ But the cameras were still rolling, and the second ninja attacked me. I turned to him, but I forgot what I was supposed to do in the scene. So I turned sideways, hit him in the temple, and knocked him out. Aaron, the third ninja, noticed, but attacked me anyway. I instinctively turned and hit him with a spinning kick to the head, knocking him out too. The fourth ninja was on top of a building and was supposed to jump down onto me, but he looked at the bodies on the ground and shouted, ‘I’m not going down there!’”
“Fortunately, everyone recovered, and we filmed the scene again the next day with the original stuntmen. What a night!”
Chuck Norris can eat just one Lay’s potato chip.
The actor admits that living up to that challenge isn’t easy. “I try to maintain good eating habits, but if I’m watching a football game with a bag of chips, during halftime I ask myself why the bag is empty. And don’t even get me started on how fast a bowl of ice cream can disappear during the second half!” A supporter of new beginnings and sticking to resolutions, Chuck Norris advises that if we stay true to them, we too can gain the power to eat just one Lay’s potato chip…
“In my family’s diet, we try to live by Hippocrates’ rule: ‘Let food be thy medicine and medicine be thy food.’ Obviously, someone has to ostentatiously break the rule once in a while,” Norris reveals. “Just like my kids, I love Blue Bell ice cream, and I have to confess that whenever Gena and I watch a movie, I can’t watch it without a bag of popcorn. (Without butter, of course).”
In the late ’80s, Chuck Norris went to a hockey game with a couple of friends. After that, the trio went to buy some burgers at a nearby store. In the parking lot, there were two rival gangs, each with its van, and loud music blasting from their radios. Chuck’s friend knew that a gang-related murder had happened in that very spot a month before, but Chuck advised him to park and suggested that the three of them walk right between the two groups as if nothing was going on.