The elevator doors slide open in front of the nurse's station. There's the unmistakable sanitary odor. Some are in wheelchairs, others walk gingerly with IV drips in tow. Deadpan voices page various doctors. A calm bustle abounds.

	Mike Tyson's Incredible Edibles can satisfy even the heartiest of appetites.

The room is down the hall. You try to keep your eyes focused straight ahead as you walk, or maybe you stare at the floor. But you can't help it. You know what is just beyond your peripheral vision. Hospital doors are always open.

You're a human being, and something makes you peer into each room as you pass. Every glance is a hopeful one. Every glimpse of an outwardly normal patient brings a slight sense of reassurance.

But that's not why you look. It's the alternative that evokes your voyeuristic tendencies. And when you see the unpleasant side you shudder and admonish yourself for such morbid curiosity.

"Why in the hell did I look in the first place?" would be a natural response.

That's the precise reaction millions around the world might have Friday night after Mike Tyson and Andrew Golota go mano a mano -- or mania a mania, if you prefer -- at The Palace in Auburn Hills, Mich. But whether a fan pays $75-$2,500 for a ticket at the 20,371-seat basketball arena or $49.95 for the pay-per-view, there should be plenty to witness for good or ill.

"I could sell out Madison Square Garden masturbating," Tyson once said.

Tyson and Golota whacking each other should have even more entertainment value than that.

Anything is possible in this matchup between brawlers who follow the Marquis de Sade's rules closer than those of the Marquess De Queensberry -- a DQ apparently foreign to Tyson and Golota. Iron Mike admitted the bout is "a freak show between two of the dirtiest fighters in the business."

Both have bitten opponents. Tyson gnawed off a piece of Evander Holyfield's ear, and Golota champed on Samson Po'uha's neck.

Tyson, a 34-year-old former street punk from Brooklyn, calls himself the "baddest man on the planet." He tried to break Frans Botha's arm, knocked down Orlin Norris after the bell and floored referee John Coyle, who tried to halt the vicious beating Tyson gave Lou Savarese.

Golota, a 32-year-old former street punk from Warsaw, is known as the Foul Pole. He got disqualified twice for throwing uppers to Riddick Bowe's lowers and intentionally head-butted Danell Nicholson.

		We'll look at the combatants Friday night as if they were patients in one of those hospital rooms along the corridor, and we'll find out whether or not they're better suited for an asylum straightjacket.

"I do not know how dirty I will get if Tyson gets dirty," Golota warned. "Whatever Tyson does, I am going to retaliate."

Then there are the questions of mental competence.

Tyson has served time in prison for rape and a road-rage incident. He is on anti-depressant drugs even though he stopped taking Zoloft late this summer. He reportedly has assaulted three of his promoters: Don King, Dan Goossen and Frank Warren.

Tyson is a reporter's dream for his outrageously epic quotes. But he's no Yogi Berra or Dick Vitale. What makes Tyson's words even more striking is his unpredictability. He speaks with modesty and serenity one minute and spews venom the next.

"I want your heart," Tyson said of Lennox Lewis in one of the all-time great boxing quotes. "I want to eat your children." Last month Tyson added "If Lewis tries to intimidate me again I will put a bullet in his skull."

"They want me to be an animal in the ring," Tyson said. "That's why I set pay-per-view records. There are nine million people who see me in the ring and hate my guts. Most of them white. That's OK. Just spell my name right.

"I want your grandkids and great-grandkids to remember me and say 'Wow, what a bizarre individual.' "

Golota has had his moments. He had a mental breakdown before the Lewis fight and literally folded in a corner within 95 seconds. And despite leading on the scorecards in the 10th round against Michael Grant, Golota quit after a few hard shots.

Strip away past volatility, however, and this fight has the potential to be a classic clash of raw power. This matchup could be a blockbuster trilogy in the making ... if the fighters can maintain their licenses long enough.

Any funny business could result in either or both fighters getting suspended by the Michigan Athletic Commission. The Association of Boxing Commissioners would uphold such a suspension nationwide.

"This is a chance for these guys to absolve themselves of any notoriety," said referee Frank Garza, best known previously for risking his life in Tommy Morrison's only post-HIV bout. "Fight gallantly and clean and you have a lot to look forward to in your career. Fight dirty, fight cheap, and you will lose a lot even if you win.

"I just want them to know they're in control of their own destiny. I want to let them know they have the opportunity to leave their pasts behind. ... If they don't clean up their acts they won't be fighting anymore."

Tyson opened as a 5-to-2 favorite, but enough money has come in on the former undisputed champ to slide the odds to 4-to-1. The longest odds, however, are against the fight being a 10-round bore.

A Tyson victory parlayed with a Lewis win over David Tua next month would go far in setting up the biggest blockbuster in heavyweight history. But don't think for a second Golota's fists can't derail that possibility.

"The fight is not going to be a tuneup, it is going to be Tyson's end," Golota said.

The equally confident Tyson was asked what he expects Golota to do. "Die," Tyson responded.

We'll look at the combatants Friday night as if they were patients in one of those hospital rooms along the corridor, and we'll find out whether or not they're better suited for an asylum straightjacket.

If all goes well, we'll breathe a sigh of relief.

If we witness something disturbing, we could regret looking in the first place.

Either way, there certainly will be something to see.

ESPN.com boxing writer Tim Graham covers the Sweet Science for The Buffalo News and The Ring Magazine, and formerly wrote for the Las Vegas Sun.