SXSW film festival: arrival and check-in

Nothing much to see here, folks. Just a guy in a hat talking to himself.

by John P. Meyer

The drive from Dallas down to Austin today was kind of like what I've heard about war: hours of tedium punctuated by moments of sheer terror, such as the time when I came up over a hill in the process of passing a line of big rigs and glimpsed dead ahead a series of cones closing off the left-hand lane. (Which I was in.)

Turns out they were trying to protect me from an icy patch on an overpass, but almost ended up canceling my ticket. Fortunately, there was a cop car with his lights flashing to draw attention to the lane closure - ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE BRIDGE. Gee, thanks, I'll be sure to make note of your friendly warning in my next life.

Speaking of lives, tonight I screen a documentary called Second Skin that starts at either 8 or 9 p.m., depending upon whether America/Cancun equates to Central Standard Time - the cludgy interface for the SXSW interactive scheduling widget leaves much to be desired, just between me and the wall.

Owing to the fact that there was foul-smelling steam emitting from under my hood when I pulled into the Austin Convention Center parking garage earlier today, I'll be forced to go green as much as feasible by taking bus rides in and out of downtown in coming days from my far northern Austin perimeter Days Inn. Tonight, however - since I'll be hanging around the downtown area for a midnight show (Otis) - I'll be forced to drive again because the bus service ends before midnight.

Wish me luck.