Technically, you’re not really in Hell. You’re actually just outside of Hell but no one sees you, so you sort of shuffle around the first circle and try to join the conversation. Every few minutes, you laugh extra loudly in hopes that someone notices you. No one does.
Phew, you can escape this circle! Just walk through that door this elderly woman is politely holding for you up ahead. When you’re a few steps away, a strong gust of wind will push you back, so keep walking and shrugging apologetically for the rest of time.
There’s never-ending icy rain pouring down on you, but that’s nothing compared to the icy stare you’re getting from the host after he said “welcome to the third circle” and you said, “you too.”
You have to split the bill with everyone else in this circle, but Ellen and Mike each ordered three margaritas and you only got a beer. The bill is eternally passed around the circle and it’s your job to remind Karen about the tax and tip she “forgets” every time.
Yes, you’re standing in a lot of feces, but you don’t want to make a big deal out of it or inconvenience anyone. So you’re just like no, it’s fine. This is good actually. I wish there were more feces.
You walk down a long hallway toward a colleague you only kind of know, worrying about whether you should say something. You are very sweaty. Torn between “hi” and “hey,” you go with finger guns and “hot enough for you?” You get exactly three seconds of respite before you see the next person approaching.
Everyone here sings happy birthday to you. You have to sit still and maintain eye contact with a group of clapping waiters until the song ends, which it never does.
No one ever locks the bathroom door behind them in the eighth circle.
This one isn’t awkward at all because, in the ninth circle, everyone gets to know each other by playing icebreaker games like “tell us an interesting fact about yourself” for all eternity. So, go ahead. You’re first.