I had a dream about the afterlife. I was walking around what I assumed was Heaven. Everything was white and fluffy with little cloudy wisps here and there. It struck me odd – not that I was there – but that walking on clouds wasn’t springy, or even soft; it was more like walking across a tile floor. Odd, the thoughts that come to you when you aren’t burdened with things like timeclocks and taxes. After walking for a bit, I ran into what I can only describe as a concierge or events director. No wings or halo and he was dressed a lot like Gopher from the Love Boat (white uniform with shorts and a cap). Maybe everyone’s vision of heaven is uniquely their own, or maybe I had arrived further south than I originally surmised. In either case, I was worried.
Gopher – he didn’t have a nametag – was carrying a clipboard. It was, he said, a signup sheet. He explained to me that every new arrival gets to sign up for a one-on-one meeting with any ten souls he, she, or it (I didn’t question the “it” but I did think I had stepped on at least one squishy thing in my walking to this point), would like to see. Anyone at all. Before I had a chance to speak, he added that family members did not count and, in fact, there was an entirely separate sheet for folks with whom you’d like to remain “unlisted”.
My mind was racing. This was amazing! Anyone in the entire history of mankind! And of course, I couldn’t think of a single dead person. How comforting to know Murphy’s Law still applies in the afterlife. I asked Gopher if I could get back to him. Hey, I figured, I’ve got an eternity. Surprisingly, Gopher said that due to the incredible number of requests they have to process, he could only give me another ten minutes. Oy. He then quipped about Murphy’s Law still applying in the afterlife. Great – irony too.
Okay, concentration time. Suddenly, it came to me. For my first choice, Jesus Christ. Gopher nodded. It was, he said, a very popular choice. The waiting list, however, was approximately a billion years. If I wanted to do a group session, I could get in a millenia early, plus free wine and all the bread I could eat. Never one to pass on a bargain I went for the deal and he scribbled what appeared to be “apostle special” after my name.
Hoping for something a bit sooner than unimaginably far off, my second choice was Elvis. As an afterthought, I’m rather glad the choices randomly came to me in this order. Gopher shook his head and informed me that Elvis wasn’t dead yet. I knew it! I thought about asking for Sasquatch, but was rather afraid he might be real – and dead – or even worse, that Gopher would remind me that family members didn’t count. Gopher informed me that I could, if I wished, combine two choices and be put on an express list for when Elvis did pass away. It was similar, he said, to selling short in the stock market. Regis Philbin was one of their top express celebrity lists. It turns out a lot of people really were sick to death of that “Is that your final answer?” catch phrase. Time was running short (in eternity, go figure) so I opted to use choices two and three to get on the list for The King.
Choices four through eight went pretty quick. Albert Einstein, Jim Morrison, Adam&Eve (they were running a special), Hercules (not a myth), and Genghis Khan. Hey, I was pressed for time!
I ran into a glitch looking for number nine. Harry Houdini (missing), Claude Raines (nobody had seen him), George Burns (bet wrong on God’s sense of humor), and Steve “The Crocodile Hunter” Irwin (not dead yet; I missed a few episodes and figured I’d give it a try). Gopher was looking a little peeved so I settled on Crazy Larry. He was a homeless guy I used to pass on the way to work. I always wanted to know how he did that weird thing with his eyes whenever you dropped change in his cup.
Gopher was tapping his watch. A minute to go and one more choice to make. As I was trying to narrow it down between Mahatma Gandhi and Mother Teresa I was curtly informed that I was out of time. However, in fairness, I would receive a random selection for my tenth and final choice. Gopher picked up a laptop from the cloudy wisps around our feet and fired it up (I could swear it was running Linux). He keyed in my earlier picks and clicked a randomize button by the empty slot for number ten. Richard Nixon. Hey, I was as surprised as anybody!
Gopher snapped the laptop shut, tucked it neatly under his arm, and started to walk off. I opened my mouth to ask what I was supposed to do now and before I could get out a sound he pointed at a sign I hadn’t noticed before. “Waiting Room”. All in all it wasn’t as bad as I thought it might be. All the magazines were up-to-date, the music they piped in was pretty snappy, and they even had a lot of lesser known famous people milling about to help you pass the time.
After an eternity (I mean that) of small talk, I was invited to sit in on a Poker game with Dick York (Darrin #1 from Bewitched), David Zaiden (inventor of the hula doll), and Og (successfully proved Tyranasaurus Rex was a meat-eater). I was next in line for the first of my after-life meetings (Nixon) and was about to lay down a royal flush (life, err, death was good!) when suddenly… I woke up back on Earth.
Sigh. Reincarnation’s a b*tch.