There once was a fellow named Porter
who slept with the schoolkeepers daughter.
He was spotty shy and when he pulled down his fly
she knew that she shouldn’t have oughta.
sharon london
A porter is a medical service worker who transports patients by stretcher for ultrasound or X-ray screenings or any other type of diagnostic imaging. One porter I met a few times called me adorable. He had brown hair and eyes. He was so cute…
That’s one of my mom’s friend’s names.
He’s an okay guy I guess. Like, he does some political junk
He says I’m really quiet because he has never heard me blast my music
That’s about it really. I don’t know much else about him.
HA. ANOTHER 60 SECONDS, BITCH. I BEAT THE SYSTEM. MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. I WIN. I THREW IT ON THE GROOOOOUUUUUUUND….!!!!!!!! I’M NOT A PART OF THE SYSTEM!!!!!!!!
Hanna Johnson
One who puts away a guests’ items. Usually on a ship. I learned this from Spongebob. :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :)
Laura
‘Don’t you dare touch my bags’. I struggled into the hotel lobby with my hefty bags and gave the porter the evil eye. I had been in the country for only a few days and already I had had to tip the taxi man, the waitress, the maid, the man who let me hold an alligator… Maybe I should start tipping anyone who has the decency to say hello. Bloody Americans…
What is a porter? I have no idea. Is it like a portal? Or is it like something that carries something around like luggage or something. I know it’s a boys name. I think. Maybe. Maybe its someone who works on a port on a cruise or something like that. Hmm… I don’t know.
Blair
He watches as she flicks her hair back with a perfectly manicured hand. The other, he sees, is still clutching her cigarette, which is smoldering lazily, neglected, and almost burning down to her scarlet fingernails. “Well, darling”, she says with her fake upper class accent. He can almost imagine her practicing it in front of a mirror, pairing it with her condescending smile or disdainful smirk repeatedly until she got it just right. He’s impressed that she hasn’t burst out laughing at just how preposterous she sounds; instead, she carries on with the charade. “Don’t forget to tip the porter”, she continues.
“I haven’t got any money.” It is the truth, but he also has an ulterior motive. He desperately wants to see what she does—what will she do if she doesn’t actually have any money?
She sighs as if to say, what an inconvenience, then lets the tasseled purse dangling from her cigarette arm slide down. He watches with interest as she paws through its contents: a cheap plastic mirror, a tube of lipstick, cigarettes, a granola bar, and what appears to be a pack of tampons. It is a long moment before she locates her skinny wallet.
One of her fake red nails has peeled off in the process, and she looks the most undignified he has ever seen her as she gingerly removes a crumpled bill from her wallet and hands it to him. “It isn’t much,” she says, voice almost approaching normalcy, “but it will have to do.”
The porter went up to the door and let in the hooded stranger. Wanting to go back to bed, he did not confirm his arrival with his majesty, not knowing what would come next.
Tanya
He carried the bags for my grandmother when she traveled by train to the deep south. She tipped him quite handsomely, though some would argue that she shouldn’t have. He smiled at her and she ducked away bashfully.
Jenny
My surroundings were hectic, there were many people zooming pass me with their luggages. I glanced around the terminal, trying to find Mat, but he was nowhere to be seen. I heard a voice, “Ma’am,” it said. I glanced to my left and found a porter.
“Ye—yes?” I asked, tilting an eyebrow. I didn’t have time for petty conversations. Where was Matt?
“Would you like it if I carry your luggage for you Ma’am? Only for two dollars, Ma’am,” the man asked. He had ruffled hair, stripped jeans and an old shirt, most probably from a second hand store. I nodded, slowly and gave him two dollars. His hands were dry, and I winced faintly as my fingers brushed his dry and scaly palms.
Aisha Momand
porter is a word that i do not know the meaning of. It sounds like something to do with the ocean, one that I could not be bothered looking up in the dictionary. Furthermore, I only have been granted with a mere 60 seconds, so I am trying to write as much as
Finch
As soon as the visitor entered his room, the porter quickly followed him in and placed his bags next to the white bed. The visitor thanked him, asked him how much money did people usually give him. he porter didn’t respond and walked out of the bedroom.
“You know what no one says nowadays?”
“That you’re funny?”
“Very funny, no. No one says ‘I want to be a porter when I grow up.'”
“I’m not sure anyone ever said that.”
The porter of hell-gate was a man who time and time again lost and regained his humanity on the job. He would see men and women at their weakest, most fragile, as they yet display the perseverance of those who know they are beyond salvation.
MM
The man ordered a dark porter from the bar. I instinctively followed suit and ordered the same. The first sip revealed a bitterness which I had not experienced in an ale before. This was my first experience of London – bitterness. However, this was quickly meshed with an inherent sweetness as an aftertaste as it left my palate.
Porter, it makes me think of hotels and that in turn makes me think of The Shinning, what a wonderful book, setting, characters and writer. Imagine if it all become real or was real all the time ago? Does that exist and if it did what would people do what would happen? Would the world go into panic? Intresting.
hehe they be portin’ the whole town! port port! choo choo! choo choo train! you can be a transporter – and make the whole potash! potassium! ohh chem is life. this sucks. hmmmm… i love this font. jk. it’s pretty average.
The porter carefully took her bag and placed it just inside the door to her room. He waited, hesitating at the door hoping for a tip. She was lost in thought. Too occupied to notice the kindly frail older gentleman waiting and carefully watching her. What was she going to do next? Where would she ever find the answers to all of her questions?
Catherine Headley
I saluted the porter with an automated wave. Routine never changes. How frustrating. I can’t even enjoy my day thinking that I have nothing better to do than to run the same course every day. I need vacations perhaps.
Patricia Alvarez
who is porter? lalalalalalaala
porter scavo?
or mr porter ?
m
I don’t actually know what a porter is. Possibly it is an occupation, or something like that. It reminds me of wine, but there is probably no relation.
Veronica
sounds like a person who ships things from one place to another like a ups man or fed ex and other things like that….
porter reminds me of a pig?i dont know it makes me think or porker. or maybe a last name i cant really decide. hmph. lalalalla. writers block!!
maya
Porter lived in the suburbs of a small town with his parents. Being only a 17 year old caused him trouble, due to the fact he was determined to get the fuck out of his house. He was eager to turn 18 so he could be able to leave as soon as possible. Craving the need to head out to San Francisco to make something of himself. He tried getting money in various ways but no one was offering work. He desperately needed to flee his household but he didn’t know how just yet. Porter had no money, no job, no car, and no family willing to help him out with his intentions. He was all on his own, but he didn’t mind. Living with his family, he learned how to live life alone with no assistance from others. He had the ambition of a man with many years but had no experience himself. Out of all things, he was most fascinated with art. Porter had such a strong desire to be a artist but every single time he made an attempt to do something with his art, he was turned down. Since he lived in such a small town, no one was really interested. Feeling as trapped as he did, he had the plan to leave his childhood town at the age of 13. At that time, he realized how disorganized and terrifying life really was.
Hannah
all day i traveled. like sandpaper on my feet. who am i to say a thing about it though?
Emma Ryan
Porter, transporting goods from one point to another. Implies a mutual transaction, a degree of understanding. You need something of theirs, and they likewise. But partnerships aren’t always friendly, strictly on a need basis. You have to work with what you have.
london porter is the most delicious beer that is easy to find around the bars here. It has a slight chocolate-y undertone, it’s almost warming and it tastes awesome. I like going to a small bar, and sitting with friends and a great beer.
I do not know the word to be honest, but it made me think of a small waiter opening doors and ports, i really have no clue as to what a porter does, or what a porter is. Really it could be anything in the world to me, since English is not my first language i don’t understand everything.
Danni
I remember when me and Brandon first came to McCarthy Insititute. I was scared to death, but of course when did I not feel clueless and moronic. I didn’t understand where we were going or what these people were going to do to us, but all they told us was to wait at the port where some man would pick us up. From there our new life would begin.
Porter, I don’t know, I think of portly which means kinda stout and fat, or stocky, like George Costanza from Seinfeld. There’s also Port wine. A porter is someone you pay, but I never understood what they did.
porter….what a weird name. it sounds like it could be the last name for someone cool sounding, like will porter, the badass fraternity kid who gets laid ALLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL the time. with no exaggeration there. anyhow, this is a dumb word to write about.
The man was at the dock, waiting while the brisk air hung around him like a ghost. He shivered while he grabbed the luggage, having a deep and hateful loathing for his job. The worst kind, next to McDonald’s. He just wanted to feel like he was needed.
Autumn Hayley
what the hell? a porter?
at first, i checked translate.google.com to see what that means. and now that i know i want to refresh the word but i don’t know how. to lazy to go to back page.
and i haven’t checked e-mail adress correctly so now i’m here again. guess i’ll just put a potato :lepotato:
see ya, take care
bogdan raicevic
Is a man who helps people to their rooms in hotels he helps them out of their cars on arrival at the hotel
S wardroper
The porter smiled coolly at her as she stepped carefully from the cab. It was hard to say what set him on edge. Perhaps the scuffing on her shoes, the unraveling edges of her sleeves, all of it…it was all setting him off and he hated her. Her eyes were wide with wonder, but to him she just looked like a doe-eyed fool. The world wasn’t something to wonder at, but to hide from. It was not something to celebrate…only to fear.
The train glistened in the sunlight.
Bright red,
streaks of blue,
and then a blur.
It was beautiful,
a beauty not lost on the porter
though he sees it everyday,
he appreciates it most of all
Rachel
I have no idea what a porter is… Maybe it is that thing that delivers mail… Or maybe like on the news or something. It might even be an object. I’m not exactly sure what a porter is… A person, place, or thing? I don’t know.
Camryn
a kitchen porter is a job i can’t have because i’m not entirely sure what it is. but im sure that would mean i wouldn’t get very far in the interview. that’s not a problem now anyway because i have a job and its so so . like everything. ups and downs.
There once was a fellow named Porter
who slept with the schoolkeepers daughter.
He was spotty shy and when he pulled down his fly
she knew that she shouldn’t have oughta.
A porter is a medical service worker who transports patients by stretcher for ultrasound or X-ray screenings or any other type of diagnostic imaging. One porter I met a few times called me adorable. He had brown hair and eyes. He was so cute…
That’s one of my mom’s friend’s names.
He’s an okay guy I guess. Like, he does some political junk
He says I’m really quiet because he has never heard me blast my music
That’s about it really. I don’t know much else about him.
HA. ANOTHER 60 SECONDS, BITCH. I BEAT THE SYSTEM. MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. I WIN. I THREW IT ON THE GROOOOOUUUUUUUND….!!!!!!!! I’M NOT A PART OF THE SYSTEM!!!!!!!!
One who puts away a guests’ items. Usually on a ship. I learned this from Spongebob. :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :)
‘Don’t you dare touch my bags’. I struggled into the hotel lobby with my hefty bags and gave the porter the evil eye. I had been in the country for only a few days and already I had had to tip the taxi man, the waitress, the maid, the man who let me hold an alligator… Maybe I should start tipping anyone who has the decency to say hello. Bloody Americans…
What is a porter? I have no idea. Is it like a portal? Or is it like something that carries something around like luggage or something. I know it’s a boys name. I think. Maybe. Maybe its someone who works on a port on a cruise or something like that. Hmm… I don’t know.
He watches as she flicks her hair back with a perfectly manicured hand. The other, he sees, is still clutching her cigarette, which is smoldering lazily, neglected, and almost burning down to her scarlet fingernails. “Well, darling”, she says with her fake upper class accent. He can almost imagine her practicing it in front of a mirror, pairing it with her condescending smile or disdainful smirk repeatedly until she got it just right. He’s impressed that she hasn’t burst out laughing at just how preposterous she sounds; instead, she carries on with the charade. “Don’t forget to tip the porter”, she continues.
“I haven’t got any money.” It is the truth, but he also has an ulterior motive. He desperately wants to see what she does—what will she do if she doesn’t actually have any money?
She sighs as if to say, what an inconvenience, then lets the tasseled purse dangling from her cigarette arm slide down. He watches with interest as she paws through its contents: a cheap plastic mirror, a tube of lipstick, cigarettes, a granola bar, and what appears to be a pack of tampons. It is a long moment before she locates her skinny wallet.
One of her fake red nails has peeled off in the process, and she looks the most undignified he has ever seen her as she gingerly removes a crumpled bill from her wallet and hands it to him. “It isn’t much,” she says, voice almost approaching normalcy, “but it will have to do.”
The porter went up to the door and let in the hooded stranger. Wanting to go back to bed, he did not confirm his arrival with his majesty, not knowing what would come next.
He carried the bags for my grandmother when she traveled by train to the deep south. She tipped him quite handsomely, though some would argue that she shouldn’t have. He smiled at her and she ducked away bashfully.
My surroundings were hectic, there were many people zooming pass me with their luggages. I glanced around the terminal, trying to find Mat, but he was nowhere to be seen. I heard a voice, “Ma’am,” it said. I glanced to my left and found a porter.
“Ye—yes?” I asked, tilting an eyebrow. I didn’t have time for petty conversations. Where was Matt?
“Would you like it if I carry your luggage for you Ma’am? Only for two dollars, Ma’am,” the man asked. He had ruffled hair, stripped jeans and an old shirt, most probably from a second hand store. I nodded, slowly and gave him two dollars. His hands were dry, and I winced faintly as my fingers brushed his dry and scaly palms.
porter is a word that i do not know the meaning of. It sounds like something to do with the ocean, one that I could not be bothered looking up in the dictionary. Furthermore, I only have been granted with a mere 60 seconds, so I am trying to write as much as
As soon as the visitor entered his room, the porter quickly followed him in and placed his bags next to the white bed. The visitor thanked him, asked him how much money did people usually give him. he porter didn’t respond and walked out of the bedroom.
“You know what no one says nowadays?”
“That you’re funny?”
“Very funny, no. No one says ‘I want to be a porter when I grow up.'”
“I’m not sure anyone ever said that.”
The porter of hell-gate was a man who time and time again lost and regained his humanity on the job. He would see men and women at their weakest, most fragile, as they yet display the perseverance of those who know they are beyond salvation.
The man ordered a dark porter from the bar. I instinctively followed suit and ordered the same. The first sip revealed a bitterness which I had not experienced in an ale before. This was my first experience of London – bitterness. However, this was quickly meshed with an inherent sweetness as an aftertaste as it left my palate.
Porter, it makes me think of hotels and that in turn makes me think of The Shinning, what a wonderful book, setting, characters and writer. Imagine if it all become real or was real all the time ago? Does that exist and if it did what would people do what would happen? Would the world go into panic? Intresting.
hehe they be portin’ the whole town! port port! choo choo! choo choo train! you can be a transporter – and make the whole potash! potassium! ohh chem is life. this sucks. hmmmm… i love this font. jk. it’s pretty average.
The porter carefully took her bag and placed it just inside the door to her room. He waited, hesitating at the door hoping for a tip. She was lost in thought. Too occupied to notice the kindly frail older gentleman waiting and carefully watching her. What was she going to do next? Where would she ever find the answers to all of her questions?
I saluted the porter with an automated wave. Routine never changes. How frustrating. I can’t even enjoy my day thinking that I have nothing better to do than to run the same course every day. I need vacations perhaps.
who is porter? lalalalalalaala
porter scavo?
or mr porter ?
I don’t actually know what a porter is. Possibly it is an occupation, or something like that. It reminds me of wine, but there is probably no relation.
sounds like a person who ships things from one place to another like a ups man or fed ex and other things like that….
porter reminds me of a pig?i dont know it makes me think or porker. or maybe a last name i cant really decide. hmph. lalalalla. writers block!!
Porter lived in the suburbs of a small town with his parents. Being only a 17 year old caused him trouble, due to the fact he was determined to get the fuck out of his house. He was eager to turn 18 so he could be able to leave as soon as possible. Craving the need to head out to San Francisco to make something of himself. He tried getting money in various ways but no one was offering work. He desperately needed to flee his household but he didn’t know how just yet. Porter had no money, no job, no car, and no family willing to help him out with his intentions. He was all on his own, but he didn’t mind. Living with his family, he learned how to live life alone with no assistance from others. He had the ambition of a man with many years but had no experience himself. Out of all things, he was most fascinated with art. Porter had such a strong desire to be a artist but every single time he made an attempt to do something with his art, he was turned down. Since he lived in such a small town, no one was really interested. Feeling as trapped as he did, he had the plan to leave his childhood town at the age of 13. At that time, he realized how disorganized and terrifying life really was.
all day i traveled. like sandpaper on my feet. who am i to say a thing about it though?
Porter, transporting goods from one point to another. Implies a mutual transaction, a degree of understanding. You need something of theirs, and they likewise. But partnerships aren’t always friendly, strictly on a need basis. You have to work with what you have.
london porter is the most delicious beer that is easy to find around the bars here. It has a slight chocolate-y undertone, it’s almost warming and it tastes awesome. I like going to a small bar, and sitting with friends and a great beer.
carries things. uppity. fancy. ugh. lalalala. british. funny. hotels. tips. jackets. old suitcases. underpaid. old.
I do not know the word to be honest, but it made me think of a small waiter opening doors and ports, i really have no clue as to what a porter does, or what a porter is. Really it could be anything in the world to me, since English is not my first language i don’t understand everything.
I remember when me and Brandon first came to McCarthy Insititute. I was scared to death, but of course when did I not feel clueless and moronic. I didn’t understand where we were going or what these people were going to do to us, but all they told us was to wait at the port where some man would pick us up. From there our new life would begin.
Porter, I don’t know, I think of portly which means kinda stout and fat, or stocky, like George Costanza from Seinfeld. There’s also Port wine. A porter is someone you pay, but I never understood what they did.
porter….what a weird name. it sounds like it could be the last name for someone cool sounding, like will porter, the badass fraternity kid who gets laid ALLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL the time. with no exaggeration there. anyhow, this is a dumb word to write about.
“… And the porter finally arrived.”
The man was at the dock, waiting while the brisk air hung around him like a ghost. He shivered while he grabbed the luggage, having a deep and hateful loathing for his job. The worst kind, next to McDonald’s. He just wanted to feel like he was needed.
what the hell? a porter?
at first, i checked translate.google.com to see what that means. and now that i know i want to refresh the word but i don’t know how. to lazy to go to back page.
and i haven’t checked e-mail adress correctly so now i’m here again. guess i’ll just put a potato :lepotato:
see ya, take care
Is a man who helps people to their rooms in hotels he helps them out of their cars on arrival at the hotel
The porter smiled coolly at her as she stepped carefully from the cab. It was hard to say what set him on edge. Perhaps the scuffing on her shoes, the unraveling edges of her sleeves, all of it…it was all setting him off and he hated her. Her eyes were wide with wonder, but to him she just looked like a doe-eyed fool. The world wasn’t something to wonder at, but to hide from. It was not something to celebrate…only to fear.
The train glistened in the sunlight.
Bright red,
streaks of blue,
and then a blur.
It was beautiful,
a beauty not lost on the porter
though he sees it everyday,
he appreciates it most of all
I have no idea what a porter is… Maybe it is that thing that delivers mail… Or maybe like on the news or something. It might even be an object. I’m not exactly sure what a porter is… A person, place, or thing? I don’t know.
a kitchen porter is a job i can’t have because i’m not entirely sure what it is. but im sure that would mean i wouldn’t get very far in the interview. that’s not a problem now anyway because i have a job and its so so . like everything. ups and downs.