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One day, when I was about eight years old, my father and I made a rare
trip into Chicago to see a basketball game.  My father was a chemist
at Argonne National Labs and he worked nights, so we didn't get many
chances to spend time together.

During a break in the action we went to the bathroom.  While we were
standing at the urinals, a man came into the bathroom, washed his
hands and came over to the urinal next to my father.  After a few
moments my father said, "So, you're a chemist.  Where do you work?"
The man looked a little startled at my father's prescience, but soon
they were chatting away about organic solvents.

As we left the bathroom I asked my father how he'd known that man was 
a chemist.

"Simple," my father said.  "A chemist always washes his hands before 
he goes to the bathroom."

				-- Scott Turner

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