Word: booth
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Dates: during 1990-1999
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...officers at the Northwest Gate that she had gifts to drop off for the President, but that Ms. Currie did not know she was coming. Ms. Lewinsky and the officers made several calls in an attempt to locate Ms. Currie. The officers eventually invited Ms. Lewinsky inside the guard booth. When Ms. Currie learned that Ms. Lewinsky was at the Northwest Gate, she sent word that the President "already had a guest in the [O]val," so the officers should have Ms. Lewinsky wait there for about 40 minutes...
...Service uniformed officers at the Northwest Gate that she had gifts to drop off for the President, but that Ms. Currie did not know she was coming. Lewinsky and the officers made several calls in an attempt to locate Ms. Currie. The officers eventually invited Lewinsky inside the guard booth...
...toot my way over to audiology for a hearing test, a waste of my time, I expect, because I am certain my hearing is excellent. In the soundproof booth where different tones are squeaked through earphones, I dutifully push the button at each to affirm for audiologist Mary Ann Karnuta that I have heard the sound. Two minutes later, I am incredulous when she shows me a printout of my responses. Having failed to hear a range of high-toned pitches, I learn I have mild symptoms of presbycusis--"old-age hearing," Karnuta informs me--caused by gradual loss...
...Rice, now married with two stepchildren. "Try to take the high road, turn the other cheek and work through the anger and the frustrations that come along with a tremendous amount of injustices that often come your way." She was just warming up to the subject, when into her booth came Maxwell Taylor Kennedy, Bobby Kennedy's youngest son and editor of Make Gentle the Life of This World: The Vision of Robert F. Kennedy. In a breathtaking display of obtuseness, he said to Rice, "Max Kennedy. I was on that boat, the Monkey Business, for about 10 days. Wasn...
...keeps his name alive." Juan is 47 now, and the boy is gone. He is darkly handsome and strong, and his hands are callused because he works for a paving company, drives trucks, rakes asphalt. He has just got off work, and he slides into a booth at a little restaurant near his home in San Jose, Calif. For years he didn't talk about it. He couldn't. Even now it hollows him, and as his eyes turn inward and he retrieves pieces of the story, he cannot sit still. He grabs at himself, squirms, apologizes for not being...