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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 they 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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