It's axiomatic that all cultures reserve a special place for food in their daily and social lives. For something as simple as a cuppa joe, we schedule and juggle our time to meet at predetermined locations to share conversation and libation. Meals require even more effort and the social ramifications increase. One is expected to show up on time, sometimes dress to certain standards and bring one or many bottles of wine as a thoughtful gift to the hosts. And of course, the food is just an excuse to get together with friends to enjoy a meal, share stories, to discuss or seduce, to seal an agreement or act as a prelude to a severance of relations (frequently unintentionally). I was first introduced to dining for pleasure as opposed to sustenance while at the University of New Brunswick. I lived in Bridges House, one of the men's residences. The young, eager, bright-eyed students in each residence were kept more or less in check by a Don. Each residence had its share of maniacs and troublemakers who were at university to get some form of education, alcohol poisoning or a social disease; sometimes all three. The Don's job was to act as a mentor and prison warden. Imagine a building housing up to 100 young adult men. It doesn't take much to start a riot. In our case, the Don was Locutus. When we met him, he must have been in his forties but looked to us adolescents to be older than Father Time. He was immediately dubbed 'Grandpa Munster'. With the tender sensitivity of males of our age, we didn't bother to hide this from him and he took it in good humour. In point of fact, Locutus was a great Don; firm when he needed to be and understanding and helpful as appropriate. You crossed this guy at your peril, but he was generally pretty tolerant. Question: Who acted as a mentor at Bridges House? === The answer to the above question is
OPTIONS:
- not enough information
- Locutus
- Steinbeck
- Hemingway
Locutus

"Hey, Natalie! Nice sweatshirt!" I was passing through the hallways of school last year, being messenger boy for the teachers, when this girl walked up to me. I had no clue who she was, but I thought she was a year younger than me. That's why I thought it was weird that she said my name. But the "nice sweatshirt" bit was what really got me. I wasn't even wearing my sweatshirt. So. There was a substitute teacher in my literacy class, so my class was split. half of us did actual work, and the other half watched a documentary. Ben, Evan, Isabelle and myself were put together in the class watching the super boring documentary. We got bored, so, when Ben left the classroom for a bit and left his jacket behind, I don't remember why, but, I put on his sweatshirt and traded it for mine. This turned into everyone swapping sweatshirts for the next hour until school was out. At one point I was called to the office to deliver a message to a different classroom. I walked out of the office with the information, and turned around at the sound of my name. "Hey, Natalie! Nice sweatshirt!" I smiled and thanked her like the nice human being I want people to think I am. Once she started down the stairs I looked down at my sweatshirt. Black and orange? Nike? But my sweatshirt's gray and purple! Then I remembered our little game of "try not to get caught swapping sweatshirts and giggling". I wasn't wearing my sweatshirt. Someone else had it. I was wearing Evan's. It's also kind of sad because that was one of the only compliments I've gotten from a stranger all year. Complimented on something that wasn't even mine Welcome to my life, everybody! Question: Who is Ben? === The answer to the above question is
OPTIONS:
- Ben is a football player
- Ben is Natalie's boyfriend.
- not enough information
- Ben is the teacher.

Answer: not enough information

Question: Roland felt his stomach knotting. Having ridden out of the city through the Saint-Denis Gate, he now was nearly home, and the hurt inside was cutting so deep that he thought it would drive him mad. He repeated again and again the pledge he had just made to Nicolette: I am your true troubadour, now and forever. It felt like a knife stabbing into him. I do love her, as I have not loved any other - except Diane. Under his fur-lined mantle he was sweating, despite the bone-deep chill of the January night. Was my pledge to Nicolette a lie? No, not now that Diane has vowed herself to God. He had always believed that a man or a woman could love but one person. For all the years he had loved Diane, he had accepted that as a sacred law of Love. It was the way things should be. But it was not the way they were. Not for him. What if I had known, that day I saw Nicolette at Chinon, that Diane was still alive? I would have wanted Nicolette just as much, but would not have begun this. There would have been no messages, no song in her garden. But I was sure Diane was dead. There was nothing but a memory of a younger time to check my feelings for Nicolette. And then, when I found Diane again, I could not have her. I had lost her forever. So at last I wrote again to Nicolette. But tonight, when Nicolette would have let me make love to her - and how I want her! - I could not go beyond an embrace and a kiss. Not as long as I still love Diane. When he had set out, a full moon had hung low above the huddled rooftops of the university town. Now the silver disk was high overhead, and he could discern the small house he had bought two years ago with money he brought with him from Sicily. Question: Roland's relationship with Diane probably lasted? === The answer to the above question is
OPTIONS:
- 6 months
- several years
- 1 month
- not enough information
Answer: several years

Both gross and tragic. The 1980 Bank Robbery in Central Nyack that was medically managed at the Nyack Hospital where I responded to the ONLY Code 66 of my career. That "66"indicated for us an external disaster about to unload in our emergency room. The two policemen who were mortally injured and died on our stretchers were personal friends and one the boyfriend of one of the nurses. Their injuries were from machine guns where the flesh is riddled with explosive elements as opposed to a gunshot wounds where there is both an entry and exit site. In our Trauma and Triage Course we never learned about machine gun injuries. Additionally there were the criminals who were also injured and of course we needed to treat them as any other patient regardless of their behavior. The friends of the injured policemen were trying to get to these villains and it was just the most awful evening of my life. To this day I remember feeling nauseous in a way I had never felt before. We had debriefing sessions for weeks and of course were very upset for months. The wounds we had to address, the insertion of chest tubes and everything else all in such a rapid manner was indeed a more than gross situation. There was even open heart massage. Private doctors reported to help; many are not trained or current in emergency medicine; much is left to critical care nurses in a community hospital that is not a teaching institution with residents and interns on staff. Recently one of the women involved in this crime came up for parole. Of course there was great opposition from the community relative to her release. She was young and that was 38 years ago. I believe people deserve a second chance, but of course this is a very controversial matter. Question: What kind of machine guns did the bank robbers use? === The answer to the above question is
OPTIONS:
- not enough information
- AEK-999
- Kord Machine Gun
- M249
not enough information