Read the following context and answer the question. Context: This was 20 years ago, maybe. My girlfriend (at the time) and I were planning to go on a day trip on a Saturday, and so the Friday night before, we decided to celebrate our mini vacation by having a few drinks at a local bar. It was a known hangout for bikers, and had a reputation of being a rowdy place, but I was on good terms with a few of the regulars, and felt safe enough. As the night wore on, I started getting out of control, and didn't even realize it. I loved my girlfriend deeply, and had no desire to be with anyone else, but that night I was most definitely not myself. I was told that I openly flirted with the barmaid in front of my girlfriend, bet and lost on the pool table several times, and tried to start fights with some of the patrons, as I strongly suspected that someone had slipped something into my drink. At the time, I was a seasoned drinker, and the amount of alcohol I had consumed that night was pretty minimal in comparison, so naturally I was convinced that someone was messing with me. To this day I'm still not sure if my drinks were spiked, or it was just one of those nights. I do know that I hadn't eaten prior to that, so I would tend to choose the latter culprit, even though it pained me to admit it. I woke up the next afternoon in my own bed, with no memory of the trip home, a screaming hangover headache, and no girlfriend. She eventually forgave me, and we were together off and on for a few more years before we grew apart. I haven't set foot in that bar since, so I have no idea if I'm barred, or how the people there felt about me. I hope they've moved on, but I'm still too scared to find out. It's an experience I never want to repeat, even though I didn't actually experience anything. :/ Question: What did the person drink at the bar? Answer:
OPTIONS:
- cherry coke
- pepsi
- not enough information
- alcohol
alcohol

Read the following context and answer the question. Context: 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: The trip was a lot of fun for the writer. But not for Chris. Who was Chris? Answer:
OPTIONS:
- Chris was her dad.
- Chris was her brother.
- Chris was her mom.
- not enough information

Answer: not enough information

Read the following context and answer the question. Context: Michael Morzeny put his hands into the pockets of his overcoat and hugged the fabric tighter around his body. The winter wind hurried down Columbus Avenue and the hem of his coat flapped around his knees letting little pockets of cold waft up to invade the warmth his body had spent so much time preparing and storing around his torso. With a bitter squeeze of his hands, his knuckles now getting cold, Morzeny bowed his square shoulders to the wind and continued walking. At sixty-seven years old the New York winters bothered Morzeny more than he cared to admit. And, although no doctor would admit it to him, he was positive that the first faint hints of arthritis tweaking through his hands were made worse by the cold. At every cross street the setting sun flashed through to the avenue in shades of crisp pink and red. Morzeny didn't want to be working right now. But these outings were the price he paid for having a hybrid job, owning buildings and brokering as many of his own leases as possible. When he had first come to the city he had been told that he needed a job, not for income, his providers took care of that, but for his own sanity. Something to keep him going. He had asked for something in real estate and had never bothered to wonder what other paths he might have taken. He had always been able to focus to the point of blindness. It helped him in every aspect of his work. He arrived at the brownstone building housing the apartment he was to show tonight. His building was tucked into a short row of buildings that squatted over the street, their steps reaching towards the curb like stunted growths. More to prove to himself that he could do it than anything else, Morzeny took the front steps two at a time. Question: Morzeny's walk most likely lasted: Answer:
OPTIONS:
- 2 hours
- 2 minutes
- 20 minutes
- not enough information
20 minutes