Word: humid
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Restless, Chiang Ch'ing arose, beckoned me to follow, and motioned her bodyguard to lead the way through the tall doors that opened in to the pitch-black night. Obviously perplexed, [the aide] reached for his flashlight and plunged ahead into the humid night air and faint moonlight. She followed him and I her. Chiang Ch'ing had deliberately led us out of reach of the indoor microphones [two had been placed before each of them to record the interviews...
...quiet Friday afternoon at Entebbe airport, near Kampala. A couple of dozen Americans who work for Uganda Airlines either were enjoying an afternoon nap on a hot and humid day, or were out on the golf course. Two of them-Bob Coder, from Florida, and his wife Virginia-strolled out the front door of the Lake Victoria Hotel and there, to their surprise, was President Field Marshal Dr. Idi Amin Dada. Two British newspaper colleagues were with the President, who was plainly keen to show both us and President Jimmy Carter that Americans living in Uganda are in no danger...
...telling the truth? Bronfman's story had the virtue of being straightforward: the Seagram heir testified that a man he did not know grabbed him on a humid August night last year as he was parking his car at his mother's estate in Purchase, N.Y. Later, his captors sent his father first a ransom letter then tape recordings made by Bronfman relaying impassioned pleas for payment. Eventually, the elder Bronfman took two plastic bags containing $2.3 million in cash to a deserted street in New York City's borough of Queens. A day later, police found...
...some point during his last days in the humid, blacked?out bedroom his kidneys failed, and he began to suffer uremic poisoning. As the subsequent autopsy disclosed, his kidneys had atrophied to less than half their normal size and weight...
Milton Rauschenberg (he changed his name to Robert as a young man) was born on Oct. 22, 1925, in Port Arthur, Texas, a shabby, humid oil-refinery town on the Gulf of Mexico. His father, Ernest Rauschenberg, was the son of an immigrant doctor from Berlin who had drifted to southern Texas and married a Cherokee. Port Arthur was no cultural center. Its symphony orchestra was the jukebox, the comics its museum. The nearest thing to art one could see was the cheap chromo-litho holy cards pinned up in the Rauschenberg living room (the whole family was devoutly active...