I stared in disbelief at the amount of paperwork that poor soul was frantically writing on. Could this be hell? The place where you hurriedly complete an application only to discover that the pages never end? “Please don’t dally. We must continue with our tour” said our frustrated demon host. “We’ve got many more places to see if we’re going to finish by lunch.” My stomach was already growling at the thought of what a tasty spread hell would serve. Some of the previous tourists raved about their pulled-pork sandwiches. I glanced at my watch to see that we had an hour and a half left before lunch. “To your right you’ll notice people encircling chairs with caution and strategy as they play ‘musical chairs’. What they don’t know is that the music will never stop.” We gasped. I raise my hand, “Does the music ever change?” A polite, yet snarky “no” responds the host.
Without missing a beat she continues, “Over there are the endless piles of scratch tickets played by people who never win. On your right are the ‘texters’ who are continually fighting autocorrect and sending their texts before they proofread them. On the left are people receiving their texts eternally wondering what they’re meaning.”
We keep shuffling through other horrid tortures only conceived by the mind of Lucifer. My feet are beginning to get tired and I start feeling a little faint. My stomach alerts me that we should be close to eating time. I ask our host how much longer before lunch, with evil in her eye she responds, “In an hour and a half.”