The woman stands in profile, her shoulder length blond hair falling softly down. Her hands are tiny, and she moves them gracefully. There's a natural quality about her, an utter lack of need to impress. Next to her a friend, likely a publicist and fashionable to distraction, talks on a cell phone. They're on the way, she says. The bus is stuck in traffic, and the taxis are too pricey at twenty dollars a ride.

As with summer camps attended in childhood, the film festival environment is a fantasy of sorts. There's an immediate connection you feel with others based on mutual interests. There's the excitement of seeing new films. There's the vibe in the air of energy and passion. Yet, especially with long festivals, there's a fatigue, loneliness and outsidedness that can set in, because, after all, these moments are ephemeral.

Karina Longworth is immediately recognizable by her killer, token cat eyeglasses.

"Karina, hello. How's your Sundance trip been so far?"

"It's just starting," she says. "We got in yesterday, but we had to go back to Salt Lake City. I spent most of my day traveling back and forth in the rental car." She expands upon the story later, telling me that the rental car broke down, though fortunately she was in good company with Joe Swanberg and Ronald Bronstein, both of whom are out here producing video segments on the festival. "They were riffing out characters the whole time," she says.

SM Editor Noralil Ryan Fores arrives in Park City: "It's a dry climate. In the first 24 hours, you have to drink lots of water. And, after a few days, your skin, on your hands and feet, will start to crack, so you'll need a lotion. Go to the Albertson's, look for the kind with the bear on it," he says. "And, don't blow your nose too hard. The first year I came I got a nose bleed. I didn't even notice, just started bleeding."

"This sounds like a perilous adventure in film viewing," I mumble.