Ever since I was 12 years old, I have known exactly where hell was.  It was located in Valhalla, New York.  Oh please, it has been a long time, so I can name names now.  Valhalla, New York is a small town in Westchester that I’m sure has something about it that is positive.  When attending high school there at Valhalla High School, I failed to see what that positive exactly was.

So at 12, I started to refer to Valhalla as Val-hell-a and the name stuck.  One letter difference and it comes close.  I could sit here and write and write about Val-hell-a and all that it did to me, but I’m older, wiser and honestly most of my high school memories have been replaced by those people on Glee.  I’m not sure what character I’d be on that show, but their high school has become mine and my own, Valhalla High School, Valhalla, New York, has all but disappeared from my memory, except for its colorful former moniker — Val-hell-a.

Well, so I go the Cayman Islands and what do I see?:

It’s HELL!  And Hell isn’t where I thought it was supposed to be.  But this was a humorous hell.  One of the roads on the island was named “Hell Road” by someone whose last name was hell or who had a damn sharp sense of humor, for they knew future generations of wise asses like myself would visit.

More Hell?  Sure.  Have a little Hell:

Yeah, this was a humorous hell.  But one part of it really looked like hell:

Well, now we’ve been to hell.  And it isn’t where I thought it was.