So I go back, reluctantly, down a murky hallway to what looks like a Dollar Store dressing room, and I open up the dirty curtain. There's a velvet Elvis on the wall with the eyes cut out -- some weird sort of quality assurance program they're running in there. They got a dirty recliner they pulled off the street with duct tape on it -- God knows what else. They got a bloody pipe on the floor. It's like a third world game of Clue.