We had been told there would be a press screening of Sunshine this afternoon, which which is unusual in that we fest hacks are normally treated like mushrooms. Given the way protocol here at KV is running like a well-oiled avalanche of hedgehogs on bad acid, I thought maybe, just maybe, I'd better check with the press office to make sure that my staff ID was enough to get me into the screening. Good thing I checked: As we're sorta working for the festival, we have staff accreditation. You can only have one kind of accreditation. Industry. Press. Staff. Etc. So I don't have press accreditation. Which means that, under normal circumstances, I don't have access to things like, oh, press conferences.
Anyway, the press office assured us that they would get us in the press screening. We got to the screening room, which seems to be reserved for industry screenings, which the press are not invited to. So the security guard wouldn't let any of the press in the press screening.
It was eventually straightened out, but that's the way things go here. Take the coffee machine, for example. The daily's offices have been given a lovely little espresso machine. There are a dozen or so people in our office. They gave us three cups. So I went downstairs to 'production' to ask for more. A very friendly, helpful young lady took a stack of plastic cups off the water cooler and gave them to me.
And the Thermal is lousy with security guards. Jeebus. They're everywhere. And they're all about 17 and bored. And they look like they'd rather be sitting at a tram stop somewhere, spitting. I have this well-nigh uncontrollable urge to slap them.
So where's the party?
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