In other cubicles the doors are left open to reveal nude men, alone, paired off or in groups. Soft voices echo along the dimly lit gray and black corridors where the private rooms are located, and the faint aroma of marijuana wafts from one area. As they trade their street clothes for towels and settle into bunk beds, steam rooms and each other’s arms, a gay pornographic movie plays silently on a television and an empty Jacuzzi burbles near the rounded walkway known as the tunnel of love. Those who come later are forced to accept semi-private accommodations. Well-dressed men with gym bags start arriving at the labyrinth-like club before sunset, and by early evening a “No Vacancy” sign dangles beneath a stern AIDS warning posted on the cashier’s window, signaling that the 50 personal cubicles are taken. The private rooms at Mac’s Bathhouse in Silver Lake are a hot ticket on Saturday nights.