Q: Read the following context and answer the question. Context: I was fencing wire at Flat Broke Acres and trying to tighten up the wire a bit. I lost the grip of the fencing wire and the pliers smacked me in the mouth. This is what I hit myself in the mouth with. The curved end glance off my left front central incisor. It hurt some, my lips were lacerated, I scared my wife when I came in to take a look at it in the mirror but the pain to come was far worse. Tooth was intact thank goodness and was a bit wobbly and I said to myself yup, this could be a problem. A month or two later I hit it again when I was putting a portable step fence panel in the bed of the truck and it bounced and split the bridge of my nose and hit the tooth again. did not break or get displaced. Thank goodness I have a particularly thick head. Tooth trauma is a strange thing. It can blow up anywhere up to a year later. So almost 6 months later I was flying to a meeting in Orlando and of course the tooth decided to react to changes in atmospheric pressure just so I could experience the exquisite pain of barodontalgia. Kind of pain that makes you want to pry the top of your head off with a pitchfork because it would take your mind off the pain. Problem was it did not resolve after landing or anytime during the 4 days I was at the meeting. A combo regimen of acetaminophen and ibuprofen manage the pain well enough until I could get home and have it seen to. Pain did not end but the Xray showed no fracture or endodontic lesion. Strange. Then as suddenly as it occurred, the pain ceased. Strange x 2. Snapped another film and there was no pathology. Tooth was vital on pulp testing. So I did nothing more. I chalked it up to it being a karmic reminder about patients and dental pain as I've never had a cavity let alone a dental abscess. It let me feel your pain. Question: Where was he flying? Answer:

OPTIONS:
- Hawai
- Florida
- not enough information
- Texas

A: Florida

input: OPTIONS:
- a pretty young girl
- a vigilante
- a friend of Maxine's
- not enough information Now, answer this question: Read the following context and answer the question. Context: If you turned on the TV towards the end of 2002 you could have been forgiven for thinking that Britain had gone absolutely horseshit mental. Every week, it seemed, another pretty young girl from a nice family, who was happy and popular and always did well at school, was being kidnapped or murdered by what the Sun newspaper cheerfully termed 'evil paedo scum'. Naming and shaming was as popular a feature in the Murdoch press as Page Three girls and discounted holidays to Butlin's. Of course you can't blame parents for wanting to keep their children safe; that's pretty much the job description of a parent. And, on the face of it, the tabloids were doing a public service in warning us about the paedophile menace lurking in our midst. The problem came when it turned out that a huge number of these concerned tabloid-reading parents were also absolute fucking morons. For every story of an actual sex offender being driven from their house by a baying mob there was one like that of Dr Yvette Cloete, a doctor at the Royal Gwent Hospital in Newport, South Wales, who returned home from work to find that a group of 'concerned parents' had daubed the word 'paedo' on her front door in bright red paint. Dr Cloete was a consultant paediatrician. Easy mistake. If you're an absolute fucking moron. And so it was that one hung-over morning, after reading yet another story about vigilantes who had threatened to stone Maxine Carr, the girlfriend of Soham killer Ian Huntley, to death during her high-profile trial for perverting the course of justice, I decided to set up a website parodying this collective national madness. The result of two or three hours of hung-over labour was thinkofthechildren.co.uk, a spoof campaign site which claimed to offer a handy online guide for crazy vigilantes of all stripes to co-ordinate their crazy vigilante efforts. Although there are a few parts of the site I'm still a bit proud of, the majority of it was, I freely admit, satire of the lowest order. Question: Who did Ian Huntley murder? Answer:
A:
output: not enough information

Problem:OPTIONS:
- One night in Early March
- Early March
- not enough information
- March

Read the following context and answer the question. Context: Earlier this year my depression got very bad, very quickly. I'd been having intrusive suicidal thoughts for a while. It was a combination of a bad medication regimen and lots of little stressorsschool, work, a car accident, you name it. I took to a very private social media account that only those I was closest to could see. I used that account to rant about my problems. It was my coping mechanism and how I kept myself sane. Somehow just typing it out got it off my chest in ways writing in a journal couldn't (now, I try to use Quora for this purpose instead). One night in early March I went to a performance that my friends were part of. I went alone. While I was there, I got a series of texts regarding my girlfriend. I knew that what those texts said would cause me an immense amount of stress and sleepless nights. I went onto my social media account. I don't remember exactly what I posted. It wasn't specific, but rather something along the lines of "I'm stressed, this is the cherry on top, I honestly don't know how I'm going to handle this." Whatever it was, someone who followed that account knew I was at my breaking point. They called an anonymous tip line and reported that they believed I was in danger of killing myself. I got home from the performance at midnight and my dad was in my driveway. I asked him why. He told me he'd been contacted and that someone reported a concern about me. I was admitted to the hospital the next day, and I spent a week an an inpatient psychiatric unit where I received better medication, therapy and coaching on positive coping mechanisms. Whoever called saved me, but in a way I saved my own life that day. What I thought was just another routine post about stress got me the help I so desperately needed. I know without it, I would have ended my own life that day. Funny how that works. Question: When did this person go to a performance his friends were apart of? Answer:
****
A:
One night in Early March