Word: sirened
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...newspaper and detected a strong odor that she compared to Kitty Litter. "It just hit me in the face," said Cyrus. "I knew it was coming from Carbide." It was not until 36 min. after plant operators discovered the leak that the local volunteer fire chief sounded a siren to warn the community about the cloud of toxic chemical gas. The emergency caused 135 people to seek hospital treatment for shortness of breath, a burning in the eyes and throat, and vomiting...
Besides being the climax of the romance of the century, that famous speech marked the beginning of the public reign of Mrs. Wallis Warfield Simpson, the dark, angular, citrus-tongued siren for whom Edward Albert Christian George Andrew Patrick David had set aside his crown. She swiftly became the most discussed and written-about woman in the world, fawned over by fashion designers for her "perfect elegance," gushed over by gossip columnists and probed endlessly in tabloid serials, books and, eventually, TV dramatizations. The final chapter of her star-crossed love story--Or was it merely the tale...
...access to an endless stream of raw information that I can turn into a story. Neither job nor hobby, scanning is my addiction. Whenever I’m out and about I feel the painful sting of withdrawal from my scanner. At the first sound of a siren my ears perk up and my heart quickens. By the second wail I’m off and running toward my room...
...head. "My highs are real high and my lows are real low. It's like a light switch, my mind." Hoping that other soldiers will seek help, he's open about taking Paxil, an antidepressant, for posttraumatic stress disorder. Loud noises-even test runs of the town's tornado siren-unnerve him. He has deactivated all the alarms in his home and even the seat-belt warnings in his cars. "Get into my car and there's no ding-ding," he says...
...Gianicolo in Piazzale Aurelio, about a half-mile up the hill from St. Peter's. With the sun warm on my face, I thought I might even manage to clear my mind for a moment of all things Vatican. Fat chance. Approaching from my left, I heard the discrete siren of a one-car police escort, with a dark sedan right behind. As the cars zipped around the curve and under an arch, I could see clearly that the escorted passenger was in fact Camillo Cardinal Ruini. This was not a dream. The powerful Italian Cardinal appeared to be alone...