How much does one value one's life? In this city, during desperate times, it would seem not much. We are all willing to enter life but refuse to pay the cover charge.
Consider the case of Juan Bulas, a tall, muscular man who enjoys his daily tobacco, tequila and spicy burrito s like it was going out of style soon.
One ordinary day, he was speeding to the toilet but was stopped by the staff who required a payment of 1 dollar for the use of the toilet.
The man refused and said that the staff can't make him pay. The staff insisted saying that it is for the man's benefit. The man refused and raced to the toilet bowl to unload his burden.
Bulas felt relief. Tears of joy and sweat of great effort, drenched his body and clothes. But there was no time to celebrate -- the pungent smell of his crap mixed with the toxic salty and sour essence of his umami sweat. This concoction made him naseous and dizzy. The mix would be as comparable to any chemical weapon (mustard gas) used in the Somme and Verdun battlefields of World War I.
He was desperate for fresh air.
However, the door would not open and the bowl would not flush. After a while, Bulas was overcome by the smell of his own dump, acidic sweat and bitter vomit.
The dollar was not for him to get in. It was payment for him to get out and pass through The Twilight Bowl -- the realm between life and death.
It seems there would be no "success" for Juan anymore.