input with options: Luckily I was not the target or victim of this road rage, but I was a first hand witness. Back in the mid 1990s when I worked in Southern California, I was returning from lunch one day with a coworker when we noticed two pickup trucks driving erratically. This was on Valley View Blvd in Cerritos which is a large roadway divided (by a large, planted median strip) with 3 lanes on either side. One truck seemed to be chasing the other when suddenly the lead truck made a quick U-turn and was followed by the second truck. But the second truck came to stop just after making the turn. This was when the driver of that truck got out, walked to the front of his vehicle, raised his arm holding a semi-automatic handgun, paused, and then fired a single shot. At this point, I was parallel with the shooter's truck and only about 5060 feet from where he was standing. I remember my coworker exclaiming, "Oh sh*t! Did he just shoot at the something?!" I floored my accelerator and sped off to my workplace which was about a 1/2 mile down Valley View Blvd. I parked and my coworker and I got into the building as quickly as we could. While he started telling our other coworkers about what we had just witnessed, I ran to my desk, called 911, and reported the shooting. The dispatcher kept me on the line after my initial report and then transferred me to a detective in order to take down my information. As it turns out, my information and the fact that I called 911 immediately resulted in the arrest of the shooter. I was later asked to testify in court which resulted in the shooters conviction. I lived in Southern California for 10 years and now I drive a commercial truck several days a week so I have PLENTY of other "road rage stories", but this is still the craziest one. Question: How long did it take the author to reach his workplace after seeing the shooting? === The answer to the above question is
OPTIONS:
- Two minutes
- not enough information
- Thirty minutes
- One hour
output: Two minutes

Q: SHE moved through the crowded streets like she owned the place. Hell, if things went as planned in the coming months, she might in fact own the place. Or some other place if that's what she wanted. If things went as planned, there was no limit to what she could have. She smiled to herself as a crowd of sunburned, middle-aged men broke ranks to let her pass on her way toward Mallory Square. They had no idea who she was, but she liked to think that they could sense her strength and that it intimidated them. Not enough to stop them from staring openly at her chest of course, but what did she expect? They were still men. Duval Street, Key West's main tourist drag, buzzed with early evening activity. The sun had set less than an hour ago, and the throngs moving up from the nightly sunset ritual in Mallory Square now wandered about, trying to choose between the dozens of bars and restaurants vying for their attention. She moved against the general flow and seemed to know exactly where she was going. She knew these streets well and had planned out her route ahead of time. But something bothered her. That nagging feeling in the back of her brain that she'd long ago learned to heed even though it was wrong as often as it was right. You couldn't survive in her world without learning to pay attention to such feelings, and she'd more than survived - she'd prospered beyond the dreams of any young hacker or con artist. Heeding the subliminal warning, she changed plans and stepped out into the crawling Duval Street traffic. A purple taxi honked angrily but she just smiled as she strode across the street and stared intently at a display of cheap, tasteless T-shirts in a storefront window. Question: Why was she probably intimidating? === The answer to the above question is

OPTIONS:
- not enough information
- because she was wearing a new outfit
- because of her self confidence
- because it was a group of men

A: because of her self confidence

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: Dr Lee believes that === The answer to the above question is

OPTIONS:
- The MD is not intelligent
- The MD is arrogant.
- not enough information
- The MD is crazy

Answer:
The MD is arrogant.