Word: vip
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There were plenty of reminders of why President Bush doesn't relish traveling abroad. In Moscow, the VIP terminal's red carpet turned out to be just a wide stripe of red paint on the Tarmac. In Jordan, all the King's men formed a wild motorcade, their vehicles nearly crashing into one another as they jostled for position trying to snap photos of the presidential limousine. In between were five other countries for a total of some 37,000 miles and 56 events...
...forever.When Will, one of my unemployed (amendment: he’s now employed as a Starbucks barista) ’06 roommates all but moved-in this fall, indefinitely, I knew I had to pursue this topic. He’s become a waddling juxtaposition—a Kong VIP and NFL prospect sharing a shower with Daedalus flies and Spee junkies.He didn’t even call to say he was coming. I had to call him. You can imagine, on Halloween, calmly enjoying a beverage upstairs at some pretentious party, when a half drunk female-acquaintance, obliged...
...Matthews, was interviewed and trailed by Devin Friedman, GQ’s senior writer and an alumnus of Shaker Heights High School. And when a photographer showed up at his door to follow him and his prom date around for the evening, Math was excited about his newfound VIP status. “We had a limo, went out to dinner at a nice restaurant, and with the camera crew, we felt like we were the shit,” he says. It appears, however, that Friedman and Math weren’t on the same page. In the article...
...News to become the most famous White House press secretary in history. Even in the White House's West Wing, where restrictions on visitors ensure that no one is just a tourist, his appearance in the hallway can elicit a bubble of giggly Beatlemania; I heard a visiting VIP yelp, "Omigod, I just saw Tony Snow!" His fame--invariably, his colleagues describe him as a "rock star"--has unavoidably changed the very nature of the job. He is more than a mouthpiece; he's a one-man echo chamber, able to riff on the themes of the Bush presidency with...
...Sporting silver loops in both ears and wrapping his salt-and-pepper braids into a bun behind his head, 56-year-old James Melvin Nicholas stood out in the crew-cut, uniformed staff. The breast of his white lab coat was smothered in goodwill medals given to him by VIP guests. His accent was effeminate and Mississippian. He held the lowly title of medical support technician. But from behind the nurse's station, where he worked, everyone knew who was in charge...