“The plane is overfueled for such a short flight, so we’re too heavy to take off right now, so we’re going to drain some fuel and bring up some baggage from underneath to redistribute what we’ve got.”
These are not the words that any sane person wants to hear on any sort of flight, especially on a plane so small that the one flight attendant has to sit on a jump seat that, by all accounts, unfolds straight off the cockpit door (does that seem safe to you? it doesn’t seem safe to me) or on a plane so small that drink service is limited to only five Coca-Cola products (no booze) or even on a plane so small that the one bathroom is enclosed by a folding door that accordions in (no room to even open up a door completely on this flight). And no person who is headed to her fourth Sundance wants to hear those words from a tense-looking flight attendant who mutters to the gate agent who has somehow popped up inside the front galley, “How many children are on the flight? Are there any babies?” Do the babies know something we don’t know? I would very much like to get to Sundance, tonight if possible, but I am not entirely sure that I want to die in the process.
And that’s how my fourth Sundance kicked off.
I’ll spare you the rest of the gory details – the plane drained some fuel, we arranged some package, and despite one massive in-flight bump (“Whoops! We got caught in that other jet’s stream!” Or something equally as unsettling) – but, suffice it to say, I made it to Park City. Well, I made it to Salt Lake City, at 11PM on a Friday night, surrounded by people wearing shorts and confused-looking agents screaming into cell phones that they “needed the talent and needed it now!” Sir, don’t we all?
Fortunately, Park City was really just a quick shuttle ride away, and after forty minutes in a large minivan, I had learned some important facts about the 2013 Sundance Film Festival.
1. My driver swears that it’s more quiet this year than last year.
2. The team from a big studio may or may not have been in the back of his minivan talking about possibly buying a film that debuted earlier that evening. Maybe. Possibly.
3. The space that Tao nightclub has taken over is actually an underground parking garage that they’ve gussied up. Obviously, I cannot wait to go.
And, really, that’s about it. Hey, I never said this first diary would be exciting or informational in the least – but I have told you about the cool underground parking garage nightclub bar I’ll attempt to get into, and that, dear readers, will make one hell of a daily diary.
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