SCENE: Late arrival

Showing up at Sundance midway through is a little bit like transferring high schools your junior year. By the time I arrive in Park City on Sunday afternoon, most people will already have found their cliques and formed their routines. Attendees zip on and off the shuttle buses with the nonchalance of lifelong Park City-ers, and everyone wants to tell you all about the movie they just walked out of. Meanwhile, I'm having trouble finding my hotel room and wishing I'd eaten a bigger breakfast.

At the Salt Lake City airport, I catch sight of my first Sundance celebrity. At least I think I do. I could swear that Cheech Marin is standing next to me at the luggage carousel, but when I turn back to get a better look, he has vanished. Maybe it's always like this with Cheech sightings.

After a lively shuttle ride up the mountain during which a globe-trotting geological engineer and his wife regale me with their adventures in exotic lands, I immediately begin rushing from hotel to festival headquarters to the supermarket for a quick sandwich. I can't move too fast, as a light jog soon leaves me feeling a little dizzy.

At festival headquarters, I pick up my press pass and take a moment to look over the Sundance catalog. Meanwhile, next to me outside the press office, an anonymous filmmaker has a quiet meltdown, while his people gently try to calm him.

"It's OK," a middle-aged blond woman purrs in his ear. "Everything is going to be OK. You're here. Your film is here. You're going to be fine."

Their dark clothing bears out the standard image Park City locals have of most Hollywood-associated Sundance attendees, dubbed PIBs (People in Black). Besides the dark clothing, the Hollywood crowd seems to be easily separated from the average Sundance attendee by its persistent pained expressions.

The checker at the supermarket, a local girl, doesn't seem interested in any of the film fest glitz. "I don't really care about Sundance," she says. "Probably because I'm not 21 anymore."

After wolfing down my sandwich, I rush to the closest screening, the much-praised sci-fi flick "Sleep Dealer," only to find it packed and myself shut out.

I hope this isn't a foreshadowing of the rest of the week.

--Patrick Day