Life, Death, & Sporadic Queueing

The Pleasure Principle - Rene Magritte, c.1937

             "I've been thinking a lot recently about death, and I have come to the conclusion that if Heaven exists, it is going to be essentially like the dentists. When I die, a composite representation of my thoughts, electrical signals and for some reason pure white light, will travel upwards, downwards, or side to side, there being no direction in space, there is nowhere that could merit these designations, so I shall imagine simply that I shall travel through and outside of all dimensional realities simultaneously till I reach that great fluffy cloud in the sky, which none but the poorest of commercial flights have ever quite been able to reach.
            When there I will be greeted by a room full of people awkwardly trying to pretend that they are the only other person there, that is too bright and far too clean to the point of becoming sterile. This image of sterility will not be helped by the almost imperceptible but omnipresent sound of Jeff Buckley being piped through the walls and the slightly attractive yet wholly unattainable receptionist who represents all the frustration felt for all the girls who are pretty, fuckable, and yet only smiling at you because they get paid to do it.
            It is then that I will realise I've jumped a queue. The reason I didn't realise this before is because the queue has formed itself in one of the most unlikely and counter intuitive places for a queue to do so. Queues are unintelligent and ignorant beasts, slow and single minded, forming themselves around waterholes of public interest, like coffee shops, cash machines,  and celebrity book signings. Whilst more domesticated than its cousin, crowds, queues are still wild beasts with a collective conscious of frustration and a natural suspicion of anyone who exists outside of it. I would imagine the queue in heaven to be the worst of all, with confused and irate members of the public all pushing, shoving, asking for information, and demanding to know what was with all the Amish, who are presumably thinking much the same thing about everybody else.
           One must at some point decide between whether to become a member of the crowd, or join the queue."

- Eric Luther