I always avoided the 42nd Street grindhouses like the plague. In my mid teens I would grab a Westfield-to-Port Authority bus on Saturday mornings and sneak into Manhattan for an afternoon show, but I almost always restricted myself to the first-rate, reserved-seat houses — Criterion, Loews State, Rivoli, Capitol, DeMille, Warner.
Okay, except for now-and-then visits to the Paramount, Astor and Victoria, which were regular popular-price theatres.
When I look at the grindhouse marquees I think mostly of older gay guys accidentally bumping into me and copping a feel.
