Devade shows the Central American to the door, shakes his hand, and the visitor, instead of waiting for the elevator, rushes down the stairs.

NEWYORKER: Labyrinth

As the elevator light moved from sixth to fifth, I slid my hand underneath the plastic shroud.

NEWYORKER: Sweetheart Sorrow

That weekend, Mr. Saied ran into Sheik Qaradawi as the luminary emerged from a crowded hotel elevator and attempted to fend off people trying to kiss his hand.

CENTERFORSECURITYPOLICY: An insight into the fifth column