If drive-in movies make a comeback, the parking lot is going to be lit!
- Thread starter CreepyMcCreeperson
- Start date
BaltimoreTwilightMarauder
Superstar
The idea seems dumb to me. Who wants to pay for inferior sound?
I went to drive ins in like 2005. There's actually one not too far from me but I'm 15 years older, the vibe ain't the same. They most show kids movies.
Youre supposed to eat in your car. They didn't care if you brought food and drink in or alcohol as long as you weren't a minor. They didn't care if you got out of your car to walk around (there were bathrooms, a concession stand and arcade area, people hollered at girls, wasn't too many fights. As long as you weren't being super loud and distracting people it was all fun.
You were allowed to smoke too, they didn't really enforce weed. There wasn't no police, but they had a security guard.
Even when you whisper in a theater the acoustic Echo, you can talk and laugh at a normal volume and even a little louder and it's not distracting for other cars.
They didn't care about people fukking in cars either. Main thing was keep the grounds clean, don't throw trash, food and bottles on the ground.
Hater Eraser
Veteran
I was just about to post this
Most of us never knew his name, but we knew his face from his small, but memorable role in Boyz N’ The Hood. His name was Lloyd Avery II (pictured in the above photo ) and his Boyz N’ The Hood character was the street thug who killed “Ricky” [Morris Chestnut] as he was running for his life down that alley, on his way home from picking up a few groceries from the store.
Well Lloyd sadly ended up living out that real life scenario – his actions landed him in prison, serving time for a double murder and he ultimately was murdered in 2005. Lloyd’s brother, actor Che Avery, gave the details of how Lloyd went from being an up and coming actor from a quiet middle class neighborhood, to a real life gang member: (courtesy of King Magazine)
Che [Lloyd Avery II’s brother and actor] remembers the helicopters being louder than usual and seeing a lot of foot traffic out front. Lloyd was with his bike in the kitchen, where he gave his brother a hug, last night’s situation already forgotten [when Lloyd almost confided in Che that he had just killed 2 people], and then left through the back door. Riding on Crescent Heights Boulevard, he made a U-turn and pulled up to the driver’s side of a police car.
Lloyd leaned down, brazenly asked, “What’s up?” and released his grasp from the handlebars of his aluminum Mongoose. The officer opened his door, and Lloyd stumbled. He quickly recovered and sped west in an attempt to elude the cops but soon collided with another police vehicle. He was arrested for a double homicide.
At the time of his capture, the 30-year-old actor who was finally landing some work. He made his name in a small but memorable part in Boyz N the Hood but was quickly sidetracked. Earlier that summer, Lloyd booked back-to-back features, the Master P produced Lockdown, and Shot, where he also served as a technical advisor. In the latter, he played “G-Ride,” a menacing yet charismatic gang member. To those who knew him then, it wasn’t much of a stretch. But to others, it just didn’t make sense.
He was kind of meek,” says Malcolm Norrington, who played Knucklehead No. 1 to Lloyd’s Knucklehead No. 2 in Boyz. “He was not anything near a street guy. Within a year of Boyz, I was hearing about him missing auditions. I don’t remember when I heard about him joining [a gang]. I just remember being perplexed. To me, it was like, ˜What is he doing Blooding? Lloyd? C’mon.’”
Indeed, shortly after Boyz, Lloyd baffled those closest to him by leaving his middle-class neighborhood for the Jungle, a heavily Blood-affiliated area between La Brea Avenue, Crenshaw Boulevard, Santo Tomas Drive and Coliseum Street. Lloyd embraced his new home, tattooing the word “JUNGLEZ” above his left eyebrow.
“Instead of just being a Hollywood-like studio gangster, he was living it,” Che says, speaking from his mom Linda’s house. His voice, a soulful, gruff twang, is contemplative. “My brother turned into a for-real for-real gangster.” Apparently, Lloyd Avery never got over playing “Knucklehead No. 2.”
I like to call it the Tupac Syndrome,” Che says. “He felt like he had something to prove when he really didn’t. Even if you have money and fame, you will sacrifice all of that just to have respect from a bunch of thugs.” But unlike Pac’s demise under the glitz of the Vegas strip, Lloyd’s murder was far from glamorous. He was killed by his Satan-worshipping cellmate in Pelican Bay State Prison. Outside of his family, it wasn’t really news. Not even to the corrections officers who took two days to discover his body.
It’s a tragic situation and there were clearly some deeper issues going on with Lloyd Avery II, but it’s just like the Old School saying goes: ‘You live by the sword, you die by the sword.’
Lure of the Streets Puts a Youth on Road to Prison : Gangs: Che Avery had caring parents and a bright future. But he’s in a jail cell instead of in college.
By DAVID FERRELL
JUNE 23, 1992
12 AM
TIMES STAFF WRITER
Coming of age was a time of crisis for Che Avery, a teen-ager caught between powerful, competing forces. At home, he enjoyed the generous attention of loving parents--what he called a “perfect childhood.” He learned responsibility and respect and became a popular A student bound for a major university.
But outside the home were the streets, gritty and action-packed. Avery heard the siren song of the music, the parties, the girls. He liked to hang out or cruise with his pals. Slowly, and secretly, he entered the gang world.
On Friday and Saturday nights, the diminutive teen-ager ran with one of Los Angeles’ deadliest gang sets--drinking, packing weapons, defending the ‘hood in bloody turf fights. In seven months, he saw two friends get shot to death and lost a third to gang gunfire.
In his outrage, he embarked on a terrorizing string of armed robberies for a few hundred dollars’ worth of jewelry and jackets--a spree that ended with his arrest and guilty plea....
...
He soon found himself admiring half a dozen guys from a nearby part of the ‘hood--members of the Rollin’ Sixty’s Crips.
Seeing their attitudes, their toughness, their apparent popularity with women, Avery set out to enter their circle as consciously as he had set out to excel in school. “The atmosphere, putting yourself in danger, the illegal activities . . . I can’t explain it,” he said. “I just wanted to fit in with them. I wanted to be part of the best.”
Just as he was becoming involved with the Sixty’s, one young member--Jason Jones, 14--was gunned down at a gas station by a rival gang from Compton. The shooting, in July, 1990, angered Avery, who thought he saw indifference in the failure of police to come up with leads in the case.
They acted like they didn’t care, Avery said. "(It was) just another black kid dead, no big deal.”
The Sixty’s saw no hypocrisy in their own unwillingness to assist authorities with information about the killers. Adhering to a strict code of silence, gang members steered far afield of police, running by their own rules. “Every night we were basically doing something against the law--drinking, driving with a concealed weapon, fighting,” Avery remembered. “Wherever we went, there was always a gun in the car.”
Avery is vague about his use of those guns or the extent to which he might have joined with the gang in committing more serious crimes. But he talked candidly about the sense of adventure he enjoyed--an adrenaline rush. Intense highs were sometimes followed by devastating lows.
In August of 1990, just a month after Jones’ death, one of Avery’s best friends, Terrance Ferris, 18, was shot in the head while sitting in a parked car. Ferris was an associate of the Sixty’s, never formally initiated in the gang’s traditional rite--a group mugging, Avery said. The shooting occurred after a minor argument at a party in Inglewood, killing a young man who had, in Avery’s words, “a good heart, a lot of family love.”
Roiling with anger, Avery lost his focus on school. He withdrew at home, coming and going quickly or lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. “It seemed like nothing was being done” about the shooting, he recalled bitterly. “There was no (police) follow-up.”
In time, Sixty’s members came to believe they knew who killed Ferris, but again police were never told--a fact that points up the wide breach between gangs and law enforcement. Inglewood Police Sgt. Alex Perez said investigators “would love to get the (killer)” but are stymied despite the knowledge there must have been many witnesses.
“Somehow or another, I guess (Avery) expects us to be mind-readers,” Perez said.
By early 1991, Avery’s life took an agreeable detour: He became a consultant to director John Singleton, a friend of Avery’s older brother. Singleton was making “Boyz N the Hood,” a film exploring gangs and family relationships in the inner-city.
Although the screenplay was completed, Avery helped with fashion and street jargon, he said. Largely by chance, the movie offered striking parallels between a lead character named Tre (rhymes with Che) and Avery himself--two promising young men with strong fatherly influence who become swept up in gang warfare.
Avery’s own emotions were about to get out of hand. Within weeks of his short film stint, Avery lost a third friend to gunfire. Earl (Little Looney) Williams, 27, an ex-convict, was someone Avery greatly admired. Tough, fast-talking and experienced, Williams was the leader of the “Overhills,” a Sixty’s set hailing from Avery’s neighborhood near Overhill Drive.
The Overhills were accused by another Sixty’s set of being “busters,” do-nothings who failed to “put work in for the gang,” according to Avery. (Avery declined to specify the nature of that work, which sometimes involves retaliating against gang rivals in fistfights or in drive-by shootings, said another youth familiar with the gang.)
A fistfight was planned to counter the accusation, Avery said. But instead, Williams was gunned down--another unsolved murder.
“Deep in my mind, I knew they died in vain--they died for stupid reasons,” Avery said of his three fallen friends. “But I didn’t want to believe it. So I tried to build up the Sixty’s so they were worth dying for.”
Avery took his rage to the streets. On weekend nights, he got drunk and went out with a .22-caliber revolver, stealing jewelry and jackets. Much of it, he said, he later gave away--a claim bolstered in court by testimony from his father, who said Che did not need the money. The father reported finding more than $800 in uncashed paychecks in Avery’s bedroom.
Hater Eraser
Veteran
Yea Starlite was my spot in my single days. I almost had a 100% smash rate taking broads out there. You used to be able to bring a grill out there and cookout during the movies. Back in the day it was anything goes. fukkin, smoking, drinking. It was paradise until some of them Thomasville brehs started robbing patrons and they had to put 12 out there.
Drive-In w/ Bluetooth capabilities would be the shyt in the whip
At my drive in they have FM stations u can tune into for every movie. Sounds crisp and clear through the speakers
BaltimoreTwilightMarauder
Superstar
Not better than IMAX soundDrive-In w/ Bluetooth capabilities would be the shyt in the whip
staticshock
Veteran
who doesnt do this at drive ins?
Dont let the wind blow the wrong way tho with that landfill next to it
CreepyMcCreeperson
Veteran
who doesnt do this at drive ins?
Dont let the wind blow the wrong way tho with that landfill next to it
Never been
That was hilarious for some reasonWatching a movie thru your bug and bird shyt stained windshield
Jean Jacket
NOPE
who doesnt do this at drive ins?
Dont let the wind blow the wrong way tho with that landfill next to it
Been to this one. Saw The Departed in 06/07.
Had a 3 Series with 2 ported 12 JLs.
Sound was
.