Word: midnighters
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Dates: during 2000-2009
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...right. The North End is not an authentic Italian town. It is as much home to Old North Church–a symbol of Boston—and Paul Revere—who rung the bells of the church for five pennies every Sunday long before his midnight ride—as it is a transplanted European city. So to consider it an Italian community would not only be misrepresenting the Italians across the pond; it would be selling short Boston’s Italian Americans. As we waved goodbye and I followed his wife for a brief tour...
...pesky things called classes stand in most students way from being able to have hour-long sessions of filling out forms under the watchful gaze of college staff. Much of this planning is done at night, during students’ free time. If University Hall agrees to burn the midnight oil, then perhaps they could justify eliminating online forms. However, this step only represents one more bureaucratic hurdle set up against fun. (Not to mention that printing out hundreds of PDFs a year doesn’t quite align with University Hall’s goal for a green campus...
Edward Docx’s third novel, “Pravda,” starts off like a Dan Brown thriller. We are introduced to Gabriel Glover, freshly landed in St. Petersburg following his mother’s strange midnight call to his apartment in London. “Come tomorrow. Promise me,” she had demanded with mysterious urgency the night before. Gabriel obeys, traveling to Russia and taxiing over to her apartment only to find his mother dead on the floor. All similarities to Dan Brown, thankfully, stop there. Instead of the murder mystery suggested...
...County Supervisor Gloria Molina, who proposed the regulations. "It all stems from an ongoing turf battle between the vendors and the merchants," Molina says. "The businesses don't appreciate [the taco trucks] down in front. And some of the residents consider it annoying to have the trucks out until midnight or two in the morning. We're trying to create a better and more livable community...
...first guest. The rooms fill slowly, then suddenly. The air grows warm with words. On cold nights, the partygoers borrow sweaters and wraps to stand outside on the deck. In autumn, they watch the moon rise and the island glow. Then someone is the first to leave. By midnight, the house is quiet, as if no one had ever come. But wait, there is leftover Chinese food. Evidence...