I Won't Dance - Don't Ask Me

For the next few days, I'll be writing from Park City, Utah, where the Pirate and I are attending Sundance. We've got 10 movies to see in five days, and I'm gonna tell you about them!

Today's our first day at Sundance. The trip here was great - utterly without incident for us. On the other hand, before we've even stepped foot into a theater, we've already seen one comedy and one drama.

Before we even got on the plane, there were two ladies ahead of us who had obviously primped long and hard for this event, and were ready to have a good time. They were made up, sprayed up and being the sort of loud, boistrous people who assume that everyone loves them and wants to participate in their deal. Of course, they were in our shuttle to Park City from Salt Lake.

First, the loud blonde with the weird topknot insisted that the unassuming snowboarder guy, who had been told to take the front seat, sit in the back so that her friend could take the front seat because "she gets carsick!" Said friend spent the entire trip turned toward the back of the van looking at her friends and reading her email from her Blackberry (gosh, I wonder why she's carsick!). Then, before we left, the same loud blonde told the Pirate (who is 2 meters tall) to sit in the back so that her friend could sit in our seat because "she's almost 6 feet tall!" He laughed and shook his head, saying "I'm pretty tall." If she'd been looking, she would have seen that he's so tall that even in this seat where we supposedly had plenty of legroom, he had to sit with his legs spread wide because there wasn't enough room for him to put his knees together in front of him.

They asked us if we were film makers, and when we said no, they asked us if we were film watchers to which we said yes. These were the only two classes of people these women were interested in. The Pirate and I did not say that are a Netflix employee and a writer; instead we looked at the scenery, responded to direct questions and generally kept to ourselves while these three ladies kept up a very loud and animated conversation that was the verbal equivalent of a Jack Russell terrier, although not as smart. However, since we were dropped at our hotel first, the three ladies enthusiastically wished us a very good time, promising to see us at some point during the festival. And if we see them, we'll smile and act like old chums, I'm sure.

Once we landed we were STARVING, so we walked off the lethargy of the plane ride by heading into town. We headed for La Casita, a nice little Mexican place (with real Mexicans!!) downtown, and sat at a table by the front window. I was facing the window, and the Pirate could tell when something interesting was going on outside by my face.

Outside, a man wearing a poncey hat and big glasses and the ubiquitous pass-on-a-lanyard (if even we have those, they can't be that big a deal) was angrily gesturing toward and yelling at a woman who looked like either his fed-up assistant (who would at least be getting paid for his abuse) or his even more fed-up girlfriend (who presumably would not). He finally ended up gesturing toward the restaurant and then walking toward it while she hurried to catch up. To his credit he *did* open the door for her, but within five minutes of their walking in together, she walked out alone.

The Pirate and I were both pretty happy about that, even though we don't know either of them.

Our first film will be tonight: Crossing the Line, about a man who defects *to* North Korea. I'll also be talking about some films that we won't be seeing but look interesting.