I figure my eternity will be a descent through old growth slide alder and devils club on a 35 degree slope during a perpetually moonless night wearing shorts, a tee shirt and no headlamp while carrying a 70 pound pack without a hip belt. It will be raining and 37 degrees F. I won't ever get to the car for Larry the Tool to write me a ticket, though somewhere ahead of me will be the sound of a creek I will forever try to get to to slake my wicked thirst. Behind me will be a whiny bitch partner falsely harping on me for being too slow on route as the cause of our demise.
That would definately be hell
Hey Cranked, I'm not making fun of anybody, I'm serious