The man was lost somewhere in the middle of Nebraska. He pulled into a small town, stopped at a gas station, and asked a mechanic, "Excuse me. What town am I in?" The mechanic, whose right index finger pointed to the sky (a gesture which was in fact meaningless but seemed to the naive visitor to be pregnant with connotations), answered, "None of your business, mister." The man replied, "Why?" The mechanic responded, "It's impolite--as if you'd asked me where the nearest patch of nasturtiums is" (a response which was in fact meaningless but seemed to the naive visitor to be pregnant with connotations). The man said, "Finally I understand." He apologized and drove back out of the town. He was lost somewhere in the middle of Nebraska.