Hell is utter peepholes.
High school.
Actually having married my screwy college girlfriend, settling down, and letting her have three or four of my kids before realizing what I’d gotten myself into.
Compared to this, the real Hell would have seemed like a paradise vacation. A really, really tropical paradise vacation. I would have happily paid to fly coach to the unquenched fire where the worm dieth not to get away from her.
My answer is going to be almost the complete opposite of what everyone else has posted. The worst possible punishment I can imagine would be the following meal
Filet Mignon. dry aged for four weeks, cooked to the very rarest perfection.
Mashed potatoes. Creamy, fluffy, plenty of pepper and totally lump free
Sauteed garlic mushrooms. Intensely flavoured criminis with just a hint of crunch on the corners.
A few glasses of the finest wine known to humanity. Probably a Petrus 1982.
What’s wrong with that, I hear you ask? Nothing at all. If I had that meal tonight, I think I might be a step closer to heaven. Unfortunately, I’ve just been assigned to the lowest pit of Hell and the Devil’s infernal legion of chefs know their business.
I get that meal on my first night. Not too shabby. After a night of sleeping on a bed of red hot lava, I get it again for breakfast. This will be followed by a morning full of whipping and guess what’s for lunch? The afternoon will feature being boiled alive. Dinner? Same steak and potatoes. And this goes on and on for several thousand years. Satan is going to be very, very inventive with his physical tortures, but having the best meal you can imagine every single meal every single day for eternity - that’s the worst punishment I can imagine.
Waiting. You’re just sitting around, waiting. Forever.
Any place with snow. Even if it did include a bunch of show biz hotties lusting after my aging bod, that wouldn’t be enough to offset the snow.
Well, maaybe if there were enough hotties it wouldn’t be tooo bad …
Showbiz hotties frollicing in the snow? That sounds like my idea of that other place. As long as I’m warm.
The soundtrack is the greatest music the world has ever known, all played on slightly out-of-tune instruments.
In my hell, the only thing to drink would be warm diet pepsi.
The only music would be the theme song to the Prince of Bel Air.
Your right leg would fall asleep for all eternity.
And people would stand too close to you when they talked.
My hell?
Working as an airline ticket/check in agent.
In Newark Airport
In January
During a blizzard
Every customer is a pissed off NY, or NJ resident that thinks it is my fault their flight is late/delayed/cancelled
Just shoot me, shoot me now.
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Being incredibly thirsty, and seeing water in the far off distance. Problem is, you are overweight, and you have to walk there naked, in hot, mildly humid weather. Of course, it’s gone when you get there. Sort of like Tantalus, but with the worst chafing imaginable.
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Having to argue with a Wal-mart employee about why you should be in heaven
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Having to proctor an eons long test (done it for 10 hours for the CFA. great way to make money, worst boredom of my life)
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Constantly being late for a connecting flight and having to haul ass through a crowded terminal to get there
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endlessly going through TSA security checkpoints
Standing in a fucking line or waiting for anything. Drives me insane. If Hell was like this I would not enter.
Hell is chrome.
Good one, Sunshine and Smiles. You beat me to it. Personally, I’ve always thought that heaven is a truck.
Hell is other people
Ha, I was so happy to see no one else had beaten me to it. PS, nice.
Hell is not making your own way. Depending on others.
Sheesh. No kind words for telemarketers, yet?
You’re given impossible tasks, but almost just enough time and wits to think through possible solutions when… the phone rings… and you’ve got to answer it. The one time you didn’t answer it, the Archangel Gabriel left a message saying he’d call back later with good news…
…but sometimes you’re tormented into calling Technical Support… and you’ve got to spend centuries listening to a rap version of Feliz Navidad… that keeps getting interrupted by the message “Please stay on the line. Your call will be answered in the order received…”
Hell is a library full of all the most wonderful books every written throughout history, and… oh no! I stepped on my glasses!
Hell is lined with stores full of the most beautiful, expensive jewelry money can buy… but it’s all silver and yellow-gold. (I am allergic to almost every metal on the planet, except white gold.)
Hell is a sterile lobby filled with the melodious sounds of elevator music. You have to wait there for eternity, with no place to sit.
The other alternative waiting room is down the hall… that’s the DMV.
ETA: gravitycrash beat me to it.
Being sober while everybody else is throw-up drunk or so stoned they can barely move.
There are radios sounding somewhere, but all of them too distant and tinny to make out what is it the people are saying. Same for music.
There are TVs everywhere. All of them on. All of them horrible. In not a single one of them does the sound match the image.
I’m permanently on the second day of my period.
The stench of cauliflower being boiled permeates everything.
And I died the day before the next WoW extension was released!