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A few years ago, while riding home from school on my bicycle,
I had a bit of a problem;  a pedal broke, the shaft cut an
artery in my leg, lots of blood, police, the ambulance, etc.

After the sewed me up at the hospital, I wanted to call my
wife to come to pick me up.  My problem was how to gently
break it to her that I was in the hospital, so that she
wouldn't get worried.   I knew how to do it, and the conversation
went like this:

	"Hi, Jackie, I'm a bit late today.  I had a problem
	 with my bicycle.  Could you pick me up?"

	"What happened?"

	"My Pedal broke."

	"Where are you?"

	"Well, I cut my leg when it broke, and I decided to
	 stop at the hospital to let a doctor look at it."

(Pretty good, eh.  She wouldn't get worried by that.  I was congratulating
myself on being so smooth, when I got caught with an unexpected
question which I answered honestly.)

	"Which hospital?"

	"I don't know, there weren't any windows in the ambulance."

Panic set in.  I blew it.

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