Problem: OPTIONS:
- for 10 minutes.
- not enough information
- 10 hours
- Few hours
Q: PAUL Reynolds doodled idly on a bar napkin as he sipped at his margarita. All around him tourists of every size and shape were donning paper pirate hats and plastic eye patches. They were part of a relatively new Key West tradition called the Booty Hunt - a glorified bar crawl where participants followed a "treasure map" that led them from bar to bar, with occasional stops in private homes, and where the chief treasure to be found was the pleasure of being surrounded by fellow drunks and saying "Arrrr" a lot. Paul had participated a few times himself and was kind of embarrassed at how much fun it was. His pen drew a rough sketch of the crowd, although in his version they were actual pirates, in full dress with real swords and pistols and parrots. He took another sip and glanced around the bar, wondering where his drinking companion had gotten to. It was still early - just an hour or so after sunset, and Crooked Pete's was only half full. Located on Simonton, a block off the tourist-choked sidewalks of Duval Street, the bar hadn't hit its stride for the evening yet. The real crowd and the regulars would come later, once they had gotten a bite to eat and were ready for some serious, cheap drinking. He saw his friend Sandee emerge - finally - from the bathroom, smiling at Paul from across the bar while maneuvering through the gaggle of barhopping buccaneers. Thick, cascading black curls complemented Sandee's black sequined mini-dress that clung to every slim curve and emphasized shapely breasts. Sandee winked at one of the tourists, blowing the man a kiss as he ogled in naked admiration. "Did you miss me?" Sandee asked, sitting down beside Paul. "Of course," Paul replied, sliding another margarita to Sandee. "But your drink missed you more. All your ice is melting." "Oh, the poor darlings," Sandee cooed, licking the salt on the rim suggestively before taking a long swallow that emptied a third of the contents. Question: The tourists had been at the bar probably for: === The answer to the above question is
Answer: Few hours
Problem: OPTIONS:
- better off.
- about the same as compared to before
- worse off
- not enough information
Q: Thank you kindly for A2A, Jill! October 25, 2017. I woke up feeling extremely empty. I had no courage to drag my feet out of bed and I thought: this is it this is going to be the day that I am completely done! I got out of bed knowing I am going to commit suicide.I don't know where, but I do know how. I didn't want to do it at home. I printed out my suicide notes for everybody and hid it somewhere in my room. As I got ready, I took one last glanced to my dad. I gathered all my medications shoved it in to my bag and went out outside caught the bus that goes to college. I had no plans on going into my classes; I sat onto the college bus stop contemplating if I am going to do it. I did it. I chugged down the whole bottle of my anti-depressant. I closed my eyes for a brief moment, I felt like I was about to faint; I checked my phone to see what time was it and I saw my daughter's face on my home screen. I said to myself, "How can you be so stupid?! You have a daughter!" Trying my best to be conscious I caught the bus that goes to the hospital and checked in as a crisis patient in need to see a psychiatrist right away. I told my psychiatrist I tried to kill myself, and he escorted me down to the emergency room and I instantly became a 5150 patient. After 8 hours in the emergency room having full blown panic attacks I got transferred to a psychiatric ward 35 miles away from home. And for 4 days that psychiatric ward became my home. Question: After being in the psychiatric ward for four days, the narrator is probably what? === The answer to the above question is
Answer: better off.
Problem: OPTIONS:
- not enough information
- he felt it was ok because the mother worked at the hospital
- he wanted to visit his sick mother
- the mother of the boy was insistant
Q: My best story is about Santa Claus. A mall Santa had a heart attack at work and was rushed to the Emergency Room in full cardiac arrest. Let me explain that a person playing Santa is generally a certain age (white beard) and body type (round) that is predisposed to cardiac disease. We did everything we could but ultimately our efforts were futile. The mall Santa rode his sleigh into the great beyond. A mother, there to visit another patient, was insistent that her 78 year old son be allowed back to visit his grandmother. We had a strict 12 year old age limit visitation policy. I was called to speak with her. "Why do you have such a stupid Draconian policy?" She insisted. "The Emergency Room is no place for a child ma'am. Besides, the germs and infections he may be exposed to, there are things he may see or hear that a child would have a hard time processing," I explained. "Like what?" She argued. "Well, there are people in pain moaning," I answered. "And drunks cursing at the staff. It's a tough place." "He's fine," she insisted. "I think I know how to parent. I don't need you to worry about what my son is able to handle." I caved in and allowed her back. As we passed the room with the dead Santa, a tech exited and opened the curtain. Her child looked in and saw Santa's lifeless body, ET tube sticking out of his throat, boots still on but costume cut to shreds and strewn across the room. The child lost it! "Mom, Santa Claus is Dead!" He cried. "I'm not going to get anything for Christmas." "Why would someone open the curtain?" The mother demanded. "I warned you," I said. "That's why we have a 12 years and above visitation policy." She was not happy. Come to find out the child had his picture made with that very Santa a few days prior. Very ironic. Question: Why probably did the man working in the ER finally let the little boy in? === The answer to the above question is
Answer:
the mother of the boy was insistant