It was a dream, then a place, then a memory. My father built it near the Suwannee River. I like to think it was in the heart of Florida, because it was, and is, in my heart. Its name was Dogland. Some people say you can know others if you know the central incidents that shaped their lives. But an incident is an island in time, and to know the effect of the island on those who land there, you must know something about the river they have traveled. And I must warn you before we begin, I don't know that river well. I visit that time and place like a ghost with poor vision and little memory. I look up the river and see fog rolling in. I look down the river, and the brightness of the approaching day blinds me. I see shapes moving behind me and beyond me, but who they are and what they do, I cannot say. I will tell what I know is true, and I will invent what I believe is true, and that, I think, is all you can ask any storyteller to do. I learned the Nix family history from the stories Pa told. Even at the age of four, I suspected that Pa's stories might not be perfectly true. When Pa said we Nixes came to North America as indentured servants working our way out of debtor's prison, Grandma Bette would make a face and say he couldn't know that. When he said we Nixes had Lakota and Ojibwe blood in our veins, Grandma Bette would say she wasn't prejudiced, but it simply wasn't so: she and Pa and his brothers and sisters were dark because her people were Black Dutch, from a part of Holland where everyone had black hair and black eyes. And then Grandma Bette wouldn't say a word for half an hour or more, a very long time for Grandma Bette to be quiet. What is "it" that the author says was a dream, a place and a memory? A. Dogland B. Florida C. Holland D. not enough information
A

I was a waitress at the New England regional chain Newport Creamery for seven years in Jr. High, High School, and College. In college, I needed money for school supplies, so in addition to slinging ice cream cones and "Awful Awfuls" at the Creamery, I picked up a few more jobs: working the dinner shift at a family restaurant, heaving trays of cocktails at a bar until 3AM, and cleaning houses. Needless to say, I was a wreck, and a big time abuser of coffee and cigarettes. One day just before my shift at the Creamery began, I slung back a huge coffee and hauled on a Newport cigarette in the kitchen (this was when you could do things like smoke in a restaurant kitchen.) I then went out to the dining floor and approached my first table, who had been given menus and was waiting for me to take their order. "Hi, How are you today?", I cheerfully asked the mother and her three daughters, all looking under 12. "What may I get you?.." Then, fade to black as a huge swooshing sound took over my head. Next thing I know, I'm on the floor, covered in blood, the girls are screaming blue murder, and my manager is shaking like a leaf as he coddles me. Apparently, I passed out right onto the table of the nice family I was waiting on, then fell back and whacked my head on the corner of a wall. I remember noticing that my kelly green polyester dress was an awful shade of bloodied brown. My main concern was that I had a hot date that night, and now I had to go to the emergency room! The ER doctor was able to sew my head up, and sent me home with a diagnosis of "syncope, unknown origin". After a few hours, I still felt spacey, but insisted on going on the date. I remember we went to a nice Italian place on Federal Hill! Here's the Garden City location, where I worked. The manager probably believes that: A. not enough information B. The waitress needs a raise. C. Something is wrong with the waitress. D. The restaurant should be closed down.
C

Q: So, there I was. Hanging out in my swimsuit, hair drawn back, just minding my own business and relaxing in the delicious, luxurious Scandinave Spa, a stone's throw from Whistler town centre. The husband and I had split up for the afternoon he had decided to traverse the peaks of Whistler and Blackcomb on the peak2peak gondola, and I'd chosen a slightly less terrifying mountain vista to enjoy. It was just one of those days where we'd decided happily to do two different things, and meet up afterwards for a spot of dinner. Cascading down the hillside, the Scandinave Spa's rustic installations nestle on the edge of the Lost Lake Park spruce and cedar forest and promises to both relax and invigorate you, and provide an escape from daily stress. With several levels of hot and icy plunge pools, sauna and steam rooms, everyone wanders from indoor to outdoor relaxation spots from sun-soaked spot to waterfall spout back massages. Bliss. It's also a place where silence is "essential to the experience. By embracing silence one finds inner stillness, leading to complete relaxation." To be honest, most people who couldn't be quiet i.e. me just talked in hushed tones, but it made for a super chilled few hours. Until I was sitting in one of the steam rooms (does that make the title clickbait? Sorry using the title 'steam room with Lady Gaga' made it sound as though we were chickens cooking in a slowcooker) and a very, very slim blonde lady slipped in. Queen Gaga herself. I've got to be honest, sticking to the 'no eye contact with other people who are chillaxing' rule, I didn't pay very much attention to what was going on, but after 25 minutes or so of basting relaxing, I stretched languidly my bones like toffee and wandered out to the next room, and looking up from the drinks table, had to blink several times as she followed me out. Trying to play cool, I tried keep a poker face (after all, she was there to relax and recuperate in the middle of a big Canadian tour, she didn't need a random Kiwi gawking at her)... How long was the author probably in the presence of Lady Gaga? A. probably about an hour or two B. probably 5 minutes C. not enough information D. probably 4 hours or so
A: A