Word: spoiled
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...possibility of crime goes up, costs go up, and it gets more crowded," says Carolyn Spencer Brown, editor of Cruisecritic.com Royal Caribbean says on-board crime is rare, but hired a former top FBI official to run its security operations. Competitors warn that a ship this big can spoil a cruise destination. "Some ports just won't support 4,000 guests," says Bill Smith, vice president of Crystal Cruises, whose ships have no more than 1,000 passengers. "At that size, you'll no longer have quiet beaches and romantic restaurants...
...Harvard suffered a heartbreakingly close, one-seat loss to the Bears. The Crimson had come from behind to erase an early Brown six-seat lead and even take a three-seat advantage of its own, but Brown made a surge of its own at the last possible moment to spoil what would have been Harvard’s 25th straight victory. “Losing is never fun, no matter what the streak or the history,” captain four-seat Morgan Henderson said at the time. “We’re using this to build...
...faculty a break from teaching and instill self-reliance in students. “The retention of the nine-months schedule of continuous teaching and examination is at the expense of the advancement of knowledge,” the proposal complained. It also worried that too much teaching might spoil the student: “He needs supervision in order that his efforts may be wisely directed toward a definite end. He needs freedom in order that he may learn to rely upon himself.” The remedy Moore proposed was reading period in its original glory: that...
Here's a play that needs nointroduction. Or, rather, shouldn't have one, because to say too much could spoil the frisson of Conor McPherson's odd, unsettling drama with supernatural overtones. In contemporary Dublin, a man (Oliver Platt) who thinks he has seen the ghost of his dead wife seeks the help of a therapist (Bran F. O'Byrne) who has his own problems. In a series of simple, two-character scenes, we learn more about the sadly self-involved lives of each, before McPherson abruptly sends us out into the night, gasping...
...original score, the then-freshman was frantically composing in a midtown Manhattan McDonald’s, still recovering from a long night on the town. The Pudding’s music director had given him the lyrics only a week earlier, but Wang had not let the deadline spoil his weekend plans. “The stuff I brought in was not ‘Hasty Pudding,’” says Wang, flashing a characteristic grin. “It was almost perversely dissonant and difficult to sing. It probably wouldn’t have been...