escalator

When I went to buy exercise pants at a Ross’s Dress for Less, whose parent company, Ross Stores, is run by a woman, a sign on a brown paper bag informed me that the escalator was broken.

Of the city metro system’s 467 escalators, 22 are inoperable at any given time.

Her father, Tyrone, grew up in Ivy City and works as an escalator technician for Metro.

Among the most notable is Gate 35X, which requires passengers to wait upstairs before taking an escalator down to a holding area where they waited to be loaded onto shuttle buses to their flight.

Other projects include purchasing the latest model of rail car, replacing escalators and station lighting, buying 90 new buses and rolling out a mobile fare payment system and app.

As she ducked out of the Sheraton fundraiser, she met a group of women coming at her on the up escalator.

Five minutes later, Grace bounds down the stationary escalator, clutching a bacon cheeseburger and a Coke.

So I quickly made way down the escalator to the baggage claim and into the car pickup area.

My escort tucked all eight copies under his arm, and we headed back to the escalator.

So, we rode up an escalator—a very long escalator—and found the book.

Beardsley stepped onto the corridor slidewalk, coasted to the escalator and rode it down.

The tallest of the Lhari—the old one, whom Bart had seen on the escalator—looked long and hard at him.

They went down the long handsome corridor and stood on the purring escalator.

And even an escalator in a department store might be excused for tripping up a troubadour.

They went up five levels that way—without seeing another person—before Kerk relented and let the escalator do the work.