Q: How long ago was it? It was a long time is all I know. For my birthday, my parents took me and my brother out of school on the day before my birthday and we took a train. (Funny interjection, my mom was caught on the wrong side of the station so she ran across the rails and was pulled up by my dad a couple minutes before the train came.) It was a night train, so we had our own room where my brother and I claimed the top as our territory. (Look at my younger self's squinty eyes They are staring into your soul) Anyways, it was morning by the time we arrived at where I would spend my birthday. Vienna, Austria. I quickly got off the train in excitement taking in the view of the station like it was first time I had seen anything. We exited the station and took the trolley to get to our hotel. For breakfast, we had delicious, regional delicacies (among other things). They looked similar to crepes, but all I know is that it had a German name that I can't remember. After we got situated in our hotel, we immediately headed off for the Mozart Plaza/Park. My family and I also visited other monuments that day: By the end of the day, our legs were worn out. We had rode so many trolleys and walked so much that I'm pretty sure that any longer and we would've collapsed on the spot. The bed never felt so good. The following days we went to Austrian Castle, Ice Cave, and more buildings and such. The trip overall made this birthday the most memorable and the best thus far. Bonus: We missed our night train back because of daylight saving hours. The trip back was definitely hectic, but adventurous. Question: Where is the Ice Cave? === The answer to the above question is

OPTIONS:
- not enough information
- Austria
- Florida
- Nevada

A: not enough information

input: OPTIONS:
- His wife
- not enough information
- His parents
- The landlady from the first apartment Now, answer this question: I've had two. Both happened in Newport RI when I was in the US Navy. First, I lived in a cottage that was in an old motel. It had a cottage in front where the landlady lived and there were ten little cottages in a half-moon configuration around it. Ours was a party place and we didn't have a phone. This was in the early 1970's. The landlady was in her 50's I'd guess. The only phone was a pay-phone outside her cottage and it was o party line with her phone. When we used it, she would try to listen, especially if we were talking to a girl. We could tell and sometimes we'd ask he to hang up, but other times we'd talk about sexy stuff and let her listen. We could hear her breathing heavy when we did. When we'd be parting, she'd come to the door wearing sexy clothes that were completely inappropriate and want to be invited in. Though we were a bunch of horny sailors, no one wanted any part of that. We never let her come in. I got married and moved into an apartment that was three rooms in a huge old house. They closed that Navy base and all of the sailors were transferred elsewhere. There were bumper-stickers that said, "Will the last sailor to leave, please turn out the lights." In those days, Newport was a small town that leached off of sailors. My landlord said that when my wife and I were completely out and it was completely clean, he'd refund my deposit. We left the apartment immaculately clean and he wouldn't refund my deposit. That was nearly 50 years ago and it still pisses me off. Question: Who lived in the second apartment with the author? === The answer to the above question is
A:
output: His wife

I have been married twice. My wedding experiences were both very different, even though I cried at both ceremonies. At my first wedding, I had been doing a lot of manual labor in the day prior to the wedding. Unfortunately, I did not have any gloves, and I ended up getting a lot of blisters on my hands. By the evening of the wedding, these blisters were very painful to touch. My bride was wearing what I thought to be an elaborate wedding dress. It was pretty, and it had a lot of buttons on it. Little, white, cloth covered buttons. These buttons were also a part of her sleeves and gloves. During the ceremony, she was holding my hands very tightly, and it hurt. I mean, it really really hurt! I didn't want to pull my hands away, as the gesture could be misconstrued, and I might hurt her feelings. So, I stood and held hands with her, enduring the pain. Although I managed to remain silent, I couldn't keep the tears from falling down my face. The more I cried, the harder she squeezed and the more painful it was. She always thought that I was crying due to emotion on our wedding day, and I never told her any differently I didn't want to hurt her feelings. Some years after that lengthy incarceration ended, I was fortunate to wed again. I had not done any manual labor before our wedding day. My hands were fine. Also, my bride did not have a lot of intricate buttons on her dress, nor did she wear gloves or even have sleeves. We were wed on a beach, just the two of us. No one else was in attendance. We had written our own vows, in fact, our own ceremony, including our own rituals. And yes, I cried, because I was / am so in love with my bride. I still tear up every morning when I awaken and see her sleeping beside me. Peace Question: Who was holding the author's hand during the first wedding? === The answer to the above question is

OPTIONS:
- His son
- His bride
- not enough information
- The woman he ended up marrying in his second wedding

Answer: His bride

Problem:OPTIONS:
- Because of the keepsake tins falling.
- not enough information
- Because of the plates being thrown into a box
- Because of the box falling on the floor

My partner's parents decided to help with all the planning and set up for his sister's wedding. I am sure part of the reason was because they had offered to foot part of the expenses. There came a point in the planning, when his mom seemed to sort of run-amok with her ideas. His sister ended up accepting some plans for her wedding that I don't think she was really that fond of, but she went along with them anyways. One of the things that stands out the most to me, was this idea that they would make a large wooden box with a hole in it, and people would smash their dinner plates into the box. Then the fragments of the broken plates would be put into metal keepsake tins for the guests to take home. (The tins were cute, the trash inside seemed very weird to me.) So imagine it's the evening of your wedding reception, and people are in a corner of the room smashing their plates into a box. And then part of your wedding party is supposed to go in the back and fix up the tins of broken ceramic ware. It was like an exercise in how to needlessly generate extra stress hormones in a large room full of people. My partner's sister looked like she cringed every time someone threw a plate in the box. It is weird (and wasteful) to propose to break brand new plates for a tradition that isn't even part of your ancestry. It's weird to railroad the people getting married into accepting to do things they don't really want. Soon after that, my partner's mother offered that she would be happy to help us plan and throw our wedding too, just like they did for his sister. I think the experience made us both content to elope. Question: Why did the partner's sister cringe? === The answer to the above question is
****
A:
Because of the plates being thrown into a box