It all slowed, finally halting.
``Last stop, everyone out.''
Ushered through troughs to one of a thousand of service counters.
Each staffed by a pair of angels.
In charcoal gray uniforms.
With little cross-and-wing lapel pins.
All smiles, even for the damned.
Pecking each person's name
checking the data base of sin.
"I'm sorry Mr. Kerensky,
please follow the red line
to your connecting flight."

I did OK, thankfully.
Followed the white line to the gate.