Niagara ReporterWhile walking down the street, a Niagara Falls resident is tragically hit by a bus and dies. His soul arrives in heaven and is met at the Pearly Gates by, to his surprise, the spirit of Niagara Falls Mayor Paul Dyster.
“Welcome to Heaven,” says Mayor Dyster. “But we have a special treatment for Niagara Falls residents.”
“No problem, just let me in.” says the recently deceased.
“Well, I’d like to, but I have orders from higher up. You have to spend one day in Hell and one in Heaven. Then you can choose where to spend eternity.”
“Really, I’ve made up my mind. I want to be in Heaven,” the citizen protests.
“I’m sorry but we have our rules.” And with that, Dyster escorts the Niagaran to the elevator and they go down, down, down to Hell. The doors open and he finds himself in the middle of a thriving city. Scores, if not hundreds of tourists are walking up and down 3rd Street, past numerous restaurants with delicious smells emanating out the front door, street musicians playing violin and guitar right along the sidewalks and nightclubs where you can hear music and laughter from within. The streets are freshly paved for miles around. Nobody who lives here is poor anymore, the parking and food service having been moved out of Niagara Falls State Park and into the city, benefiting the local economy instead of Albany. Families are frolicking and picnicking on miles of open, verdant Niagara RIver waterfront, thanks to the Robert Moses Parkway being removed. Nobody’s robbing, assaulting, shooting or stealing, or getting 14-year-olds pregnant. All the boarded up houses have been replaced with brand-spanking new houses.
Dyster and the new soul partake of lobster and caviar, and dance the night away.
They are having such a good time but, before he realizes it, it is time to go.
Everyone gives him a big hug and waves while the elevator rises. The elevator goes up, up, up and the door reopens on Heaven.
“Now it’s time to visit Heaven.” So 24 hours pass with the Niagara Falls resident joining a group of contented souls moving from cloud to cloud, playing the harp and singing. They have a good time and, before he realizes it, the 24 hours have gone by and Mayor Dyster returns.
“Well then, you’ve spent a day in Hell and another in Heaven,” says the Mayor, “Now choose your eternity.”
He reflects for a minute, then answers: “Well, I would never have thought it, I mean Heaven has been delightful, but I think I would be better off in Hell.”
So Dyster escorts him back to the elevator and he goes down, down, down to Hell. The doors of the elevator open and now he is in the middle of pot-holed streets, where police cars with sirens are racing to crimes. He sees all his friends, dressed in rags, hunched over and pushing shopping carts filled with returnables along otherwise empty sidewalks past boarded-up houses and storefronts. Soup kitchens and methadone clinics overflow with clients. Dyster comes over to his latest angel, now despondent, and lays an arm over his shoulder.
“I don’t understand,” stammers the poor soul, “Yesterday I was here and there was a thriving small business sector with restaurants galore, nightclubs and nightlife, clean and safe streets. Now all there is, is a wasteland and my friends look miserable.”
Dyster looks at him, smiles and says, “Yesterday I was campaigning. Today you voted for me!”
