Why you should never pay the two dollars
About 20 minutes into the ultimate celebration of 1980’s teenage malaise, “Better Off Dead,” the protagonist encounters Johnny, the vaguely mafioso paperboy who demands “Two Dollars” for what has already been established to be shoddy service. When at first Lane Meyers merely disregards the demand, it’s throughout the remainder of the movie that this somewhat grave and impossibly militant kid persists with his pursuit in increasingly cartoonish ways. He pursues Lane through a park at night, leaps on the roof of his car while in motion, and generally pops up at random intervals when he is least expected. As a subplot, it appears that this is played for laughs and not in any way integral to the plot’s progression. The absurdity of the kid’s dedication to his duties alongside Lane’s sullen indifference seems at face value merely to strike some trivial juxtaposition; however, while randomly reflecting on this dynamic, I may have uncovered a previously unseen interpretation.
It’s the fact that Johnny’s aggressive and not so subtle threat of violence could be quickly remedied by simply paying the two dollars that lends itself to a more philosophical interpretation. Imagine that demanding thug of paperboy as the id that dwells within each of us. A primitive and instinctive prime mover that persistently pushes us to power through any challenge, whether it be rebuilding a long-neglected muscle car, recovering from heartbreak, or confronting a bully. Like Johnny, that motivation can be silenced by any number of compromises, or in this case, a couple of measly bucks. Merely “paying off” the urge is akin to bribing our id to buzz off and give us peace but what gets hopelessly lost in this transaction is any hope of achieving greatness. In Lane’s case, his refusal to pay the Paperboy whipped his metaphorical id into a frenzy building to the movie’s climactic final moments.
So too are we confronted with petulant and relentless ids. Beckoning us to trade effort for ease, calluses for convenience. If we take the easy way out and pay, we miss the moments, and any hopes of glory are dashed on the rocks below like Johnny’s bike. In the lanes of our life, we run, climb, fight, work, struggle, love, and stare down insurmountable challenges. We do so on the impetus of our own internal will, yet we are often presented with and tempted by shortcuts. This is why you should never pay the two dollars. It’s a trap and a signal of surrender.
In the end, it wasn’t for the love of a girl, revenge over a rival, or even redemption for his entire hero’s journey that sent Lane barreling down the K-12 with only one ski. It was the insane and driven (k)id that ultimately drove him to succeed. Had he just paid that two dollars, he’d never have found the motivation to keep going and finally conquer the mountain.
Mannino Acid 