Your favorite Uncle George just got wheeled off to the OR, and you're keenly aware of his -- and your own -- mortality. Balling up soggy Kleenex, you trudge down to the hospital cafeteria to while away the nine-hour open-heart surgery. Luckily, the cafeteria's the only destination in the complex nobody needs a map to find. Step off the elevator and follow the smell of grease. Walk through the doors, pick up a cardboard tray and turn right for a full-service Burger Chef with every Whopper known to America. On the center island, the Mexican bar offers a vat of liquid cheese food to sog onto your burrito or in which to dunk the Doritos waiting at the cash register, next to Pepsi and Mountain Dew and just across from the pizza stand. But wait! You forgot the doughnuts -- jelly-filled, just like Uncle George's arteries. And, now, your own.