Word: sloping
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...runway. He follows the beam, and soon a radio beacon warns him by means of a sound signal in his earphones and a purple light flashing on his instrument panel that he is five miles from touchdown. A few seconds later, he picks up the "glide slope" beam, which controls a pair of pointers on the plane's instrument panel. By flying his plane to keep the pointers properly positioned, the pilot can keep to the center of the sloping beam. He sees nothing but fog ahead, and he knows that the runway is approaching at 150 m.p.h...
Dominic welcomed us to his area of the Tunnel and explained that things were much cooler here (around 50 degrees) because less steam was needed at the Business School than on the Cambridge side. The Tunnel stretched straight out before us. A downward slope took us back underground, and then we started the long walk under the river bank and expressway toward the Business School. An uneventful five minute walk brought us to the McCulloch Hall operating station, from which, after exchanging farewells with Dominic, we left subterranean Harvard and returned to the Harvard of everyday experience...
...background music into offices, bars, hotels and stores in six German cities. Three young Americans-Cecil Altmann, Robert S. Mackay, and John F. Herming-haus-pooled their savings and borrowed from their families to score strikes with bowling alleys in Berlin, Munich and Milan, last winter opened a ski slope in Berlin that uses man-made snow...
...water, she is a skillful skier. On snow for the first time, Jacqueline Kennedy found that there's many a slip 'twixt slope and slalom. At Stowe, Vt., with Fellow Tyro Caroline and a watching clutch of Kennedys (John-John, Bobby and his family, Teddy and his wife, and Eunice Shriver), Duffer Jackie took her tumbles in good form. Her instructor, former Olympic Ski Coach Pepi Gabl, said diplomatically: "She was very good, but it's hard to say about a skier's ability the first time...
Winter brings out the hero in some people. The first snowfall sends them schussing wildly down some precipitous slope, and the first freeze finds them strapping skates on wobbly ankles and pretending they are Gordie Howe. But of all the sundry forms of midwinter madness, nothing quite matches that of the iceboater. He may spend the summer sprawling in the cockpit of a Star or Lightning, watching the waves lap gently against his hull, sniffing the sea breeze, and reading John O'Hara. But just let the water turn to ice. Out come the brandy, the long Johns...