Word: sidewalk
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Dates: during 1980-1989
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Most runners simply weren't interested. Many huddled, marathon blankets surrounding them, on the sidewalk, until they could move again. When they walked, their steps were halting, painful lurches like the first steps of an amputee. Many limped home in a near-catatonic state, supported by joyous friends and relatives...
...even ambulance drivers, could move easily in the crowd. Athletes sat in the sidewalks or streets; their families gathered around the bulletin board where the times were posted (almost 20 runners from Cambridge finished the race in less than three-and-a-half hours); the police had to escort away pedestrians who simply refused to move. One group of students roared in triumphant cheer the Notre Dame fight song. Families set up picnic lunches on the sidewalk outside Lord and Taylor to catch the sunlight. Other spectators waited along the finish line to cheer on the marathoners for more than...
...older man, poorly dressed, wandered down the deserted sidewalk and upon the bridge, where the gas--dense enough to make breathing hard even with a soaked handkerchief held over one's nose--hung like a shroud...
...white car pulled out of the driveway and stopped in front of me; his window was open. He asked me how I was doing. I said fine. I was sure he was a creep by the sugary tone of voice he was using. I started turning off the sidewalk to go around the front of the car. I got one step and he said, "I'm with the Harvard Police, are you going very far?" I gestured toward the Yard, mumbled that I was fine and quickly walked along. He drove slowly past and turned around the corner...
...took me and his girlfriend Phillippa to a club called The Whiskey. It stood at the end of a narrow street, which he insisted wasn't an alley, in the oldest part of the city. We approached what looked like the back door of a restaurant. Garbage littered the sidewalk in front of it, in order, Alexis explained, to prevent non-members from finding the club. I discovered where Tommy's Lunch got the idea to use Bow Street as a trash can; it signals the chic which door...