Word: queue
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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...West Coast, the clubs and restaurants that feature topless female entertainers and waitresses also seemed to be going the way of all flesh. In Los Angeles, 20% of the joints have closed. In San Francisco, where crowds used to queue on the sidewalks waiting even for bar space, tables are going begging and one spot has switched back to old-fashioned belly-dancing. Reasons range from the competing tourist attraction of the hippie haunts in Haight-Ashbury to the high cost of drinks (usually $1.50) at the topless bars. But the chief cause may be simple overexposure. "When...
Pablo Picasso should have stuck to painting. Back in 1941, he wrote a play called Le Desir Attrape par la Queue (Desire Caught by the Tail). It was a jumble of absurdist fantasies, peo pled with characters named Big Foot, Fat Anxiety, Thin Anguish, Round End and Onion. There was no plot - just a splattering stream of Freudian chaos, a surrealistic carnival revue dwelling on food, money and sex. Le Desir was per formed twice, by experimental theaters in Manhattan and Vienna; shortly after the play was written, a cast headed by Jean-Paul Sartre and Simone de Beauvoir gave...
Beating the Queue. The Russia that Intourist offers, according to recent visitors, is long on art, buildings and the accomplishments of the Soviet Union (see color), but short on contact with the people. Still, as Mrs. A. Barnett Blakemore, wife of the dean of the Chicago Theological Seminary, found, "there's hardly a place where you can get more for your travel dollar...
Congresses. Though the Russians themselves silently queue up for Lenin's tomb outside the Kremlin in a permanent line stretching halfway across Red Square, Intourist guides slip foreign tourists in near the front, and waiting time rarely exceeds 20 minutes. Due decorum is advised: one U.S. tourist was asked by the guards to take his hands out of his pockets to show respect...
...shrouding the shapes of hirsute, shoeless hippies huddled in doorways, smoking pot, "rapping" (achieving rapport with random talk), or banging beer cans in time to ubiquitous jukebox rhythms. The tinkle of Indian elephant bells echoes from passing "seekers"; along the Panhandle of Golden Gate Park, hollow-cheeked flower children queue up for a plateful of stew, dispensed from the busy buses of the Diggers, a band of hippie do-gooders. Last week the sidewalks and doorways were filling with new arrivals-hippies and would-be hippies with suitcases and sleeping bags, just off the bus and looking for a place...