Read the following context and answer the question. Context: Trying to drive up a very small street with cars parked on both sides so only one car at a time could get by, individual sees me already entered the roadway, got in the car backs out of his driveway, intending to for me to back all the way out. I was about half in. I wait thinking he will realize it was a not so smart action and he will pull back in to let me pass since forward is an easier safer plan. He doesn't do that we sit for anout 30 seconds and he is determined to stay. I was a fairly new driver in my first car. I get irritated and shut my motor off basically saying, buddy I entered the street first you were parked never looked before you hurriedly pulled forward. So he shuts off his motor and smiled good as to say stalemate. I'm thinking I have no place I have to be, I'll wait rather than trying to back up half the block without hitting somebodies car. We wait, he gets out of his car goes into his house, no cell phone back then it was the pager (beepers) era. I wasnt sure why he was going in, but probably nit good outcome for me. So I happened to have a small bottle of Keri Lotion (thick, oily lotion for extremely dry skin) in the cup holder. I jump out of my car run to his squirted the whole bottle all over his windshield ran back to my car and DID manage to back up rapidly without damaging my car or anyone! He ran out of the house and I saw by his facial expression was livid! I was thinking as I drove away I hope he doesn't try to use the wipers, that's going to make a really smear mess. He's not going anyplace for a while. Years later I regretted having done that, letting a stranger provoke me, and second felt guilty about the sheer gleeful triumph of seeing his face. I won! Question: Who is the man? Answer:
OPTIONS:
- A co-worker to the driver.
- A passerby.
- A friend of the driver.
- not enough information

Answer: not enough information

Question: Read the following context and answer the question. Context: I thought I might get some good ideas if I went down to the hospital. I always have stayed away from hospitals. People died or were born. But now I thought I might get some idea if I went down to where it was all happening, the being born and the dying. Mostly the dying. It was the dying that interested me. I sat on a bench in a sort of waiting room. I wanted to call it a green room; it wasn't a place where the patients would wait to be called by the doctor; it was a place where the relatives would wait while the patient was in their room. It had a coffee bar, and comfortable couches, with trendy, muted colors on the walls and floor. Everything was clean and modern without being cold, a homogenized balancing act designed to keep everyone calm during their stressful time. It was a green room; patients were "guests"; their families were "guests" as well. Here was where the families would sit and be feted while they waited to be called out to perform, to smile and encourage or to don faces of appropriate mournfulness. The old ones would put on smiles, the young ones would look sad. I think I went there because it seemed to me that it was the place richest in emotional impact. It reeked of spent emotions, and the emotions were made all the stronger, here in the green room, by the efforts at suppression--the muted walls and gourmet coffees and scones, the overstuffed loveseats and couches, as if those in grief should not be permitted to sit on benches or folding chairs. It absolutely reeked of hush and hidden feeling. It was worse than a church. It was worse than a highschool hallway. It was more universal, more basic, something even the children could comprehend. Question: Many of the guests in the green room had probably been waiting for: Answer:
OPTIONS:
- Several hours.
- Over a week.
- A few minutes.
- not enough information
Answer: Several hours.

Question: Read the following context and answer the question. Context: I had the joy, absolute joy, of observing an ER nurse just about lose it and the poor pompous MD (who had left the room) was still clueless. I was in the ER with my dad and my sister. It was late. Dad had taken a tumble, hit his head and because he was on a blood thinner, he had to be checked out at the ER. This ER was in the same hospital we always went to. As we completed the history etc. I noted "stroke effecting speech." They had a complete synopsis of dad's history which I gave them as we checked in. Dad is getting tired and his speech was getting more slurred. My Dad was in work clothes. I was in something pretty casual and my sister was in the same clothes (business attire) that she had put on at 6 a.m. I am sure we looked pretty ragged. In waltzes Dr. Hotshot. He looks around and asks my sister and I who we are. My sister introduced us making sure to introduce me as "Dr. Lea (I think that was the first, last, and only time she called me 'Dr."). He then turns to my dad and asked what happened. Knowing how difficult it is to understand Dad, I start to answer. My bad. The doctor abruptly stops me and says, "I didn't ask you. I want him to tell me." In hindsight, I realize he wanted to hear dad's speech as a part of his assessment. Dad begins. His speech is slow and very very slurred. Dr. Hotshot looks totally befuddled. Dad had gotten out about 3 sentences out when Dr. Hotshot stops him and abruptly asks, "Does he always talk like that?" My sister, without missing a beat, replies, "No, sometimes he speaks French." As I am trying to not swallow my head to keep from laughing, I notice the nurse in the room has buried her mouth in her shoulder. Dr. Hotshot exits. A scan shows no damage. And, for the record, Dad never did learn to speak French. Question: How long was Dr. Hotshot in the room? Answer:
OPTIONS:
- 5 minutes
- two weeks
- not enough information
- 1 hour
Answer:
5 minutes