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Tuesday, November 14, 2017

Gates of Heaven

My flight had just landed in Heaven. I don’t remember taking the flight, but I remember arriving at a jet bridge and walking through clouds to reach the immigration. We scanned our IDs at the kiosks while angels guided us through the process and into the inspection area. There were queues for different categories: natural deaths, suicides, and accidents. I deemed mine an accidental death because the last thing I remember was driving down a cliff and into the sea.

I expected ‘natural deaths’ to be more crowded, but there had been a mass shooting. victims shared their ordeal while we waited. The woman in front of me stood with her two kids who had gone to church with her on a Sunday. An elderly couple had recently celebrated their 45th wedding anniversary and were expecting their first great-grandchild. A fourteen-year-old girl was with her dog. The canine waited patiently by her side. Together, in life and death.

When it was my turn, an angel sitting behind a glass barrier shouted, ‘Next!’ I walked up to him with my documents while he asked me for fingerprints and eye scan. He said very solemnly, ’Our system shows that yours was a natural death. Please proceed to secondary inspection.’

I was confounded for a moment but did as told. At secondary, a couple of bored looking angels processed application forms at snail pace. One angel teased his colleague, ‘You know who takes long breaks when it is peak time? You. That’s who!”

The accused bantered back. ‘Yeah, but I process faster than the three of you put together. And I get you coffee.’ Somehow, that seemed to settle the discussion. An elderly, evidently popular angel walked past me to the front. Everyone shouted, ’Hey Paul’ ‘How’s it going Paul?’ 'You don’t visit us anymore Paul!' ‘Paul, help us with these new applicants!'

Paul remarked,’ I am old now. It is up to the new blood like you to take care of the fresh ones.’

I realized that we were always referred to as ‘fresh’ in angel lingo like we were just stacks of meat walking around. Heaven might be awesome, but it is a rude place.

Another angel with a swag walked in and moaned,’ It smells raw in here!’

Someone mouthed, ’Train Wreck.’

I waited until someone called my name. She looked at my documents and said, ’Your papers are in order, but you have assigned an incorrect cause of death. You didn’t die of drowning or from a car wreck. Your heart stopped before your car made an impact with the water.’

I don’t know if that new information had any value. I was in Heaven, irrespective of how I had died. Now, if I got free lattes on Thursdays, it would make sense. But no.

I had a feeling that Heaven was not all that it was touted to be. It was like one of those tourist destinations you saw on billboard ads. You got all excited, planned your trip for days, booked your tickets and after a miserable flight, landed in a city expecting the time of your life. But you ended up in a shady looking resort with lame organized activities and an all-you-can-eat buffet that you grew tired of after the first meal.

She asked if I had any preferences for customizing my experience of Heaven. I said, ’Lot of reading material and puppies.’

She stamped my documents and handed them to me as she said, ’Welcome to Heaven!’

I strolled towards the pearly gates, eager to see what lay beyond.

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