Got a ticket for the awards ceremony – in the balcony. Quite an excellent get. Much thinks to my new friend Tina, whom I met at Chantal’s dinner the other night. When I arrived at the Majestic Bar to meet Michael, Peter, Alain – the whole gang – Peter grabbed me and said. “There are still party tickets! You must run down to the Martinez – to room 130 – and they’re still giving them away. Alain got one just now.” So, reluctantly, I hoofed it up to the other end of the Croissette to find Room 130 - MGM’s suite, completely devoid of tickets. So steaming (literally - it was hot and muggy, and I had on my tux) I rushed back to the Palais, fought the enormous crown of tourists jammed in to get a glimpse of the stars, and walked up the red carpet alone. I must learn, when ascending the stairs, to stay in character as an important movie person worthy of paparazzi, and not just take a bunch of pictures like a geek. You’d think after 4 times up the red carpet this year, I’d be over it, but it’s still a thrill.

Michael Moore Won the Palm D’Or, which I knew he would, hopefully assuring the release of his film, “Farenheidt 9/11”. He gave a very moving speech and almost cried, but managed to keep it together. I was less restrained. After the ceremony, a lot of the audience left while they struck the set. I’d have pictures, but I had to check my camera. You’ve got to make sure to carry it on the side where they don’t wand you. They showed “It’s DeLovely” which was De-Boring and De-Too Long and, in my opinion, De-Unlikely to be released wide un the US. Kevin Kline was indeed excellent as Cole Porter, as was Ashley Judd as his wife, but it’s just a dreary story that never seemed to get on it’s feet.

Funniest thing of the night – Jury president and cineaste Quentarintino, who presented all the winners, still doesn’t know how to pronounce “Cannes” properly. The correct way is “CAN” like can-of-soup. Tarantino says “Kahn” like Wrath-of Kahn. I guess no one wants to correct him.

Then the party entry farce began. In order to get in, you needed to have the wrist band, as well as the paper invitation. With both of which you have to pass through at least three security gates, staffed not by the friendly bouncer of the Cote D’Azure, but the assiduously strict security staff of the Palais. After a lot of very comical machinations with Alain and his friend, this fast talking cat called who seemed to know what's what. I managed to get both the bracelet and an invitation that I was to circulate back out with and give to someone else, thus paying it forward – party karma. I got through the first gate, the second gate, was directed to the gold carpet, to match my gold wrist band, then was turned away because my invite was blue and both items needed to be the same color.

Merde.

So I hung out at the snack bar next to the big Spotvision screen with Steve Kimbrough from the Laugh is Hope Comedy Film Festival, and his friends from Spotvision. At about 2am, I completely gave up and thought I’d walk down by the boats to see if there were any parties there.

At the beginning of the dock there was a beautiful desperate young woman talking with the police. “Do you speak English?” she asked me. “D’Accord!” So I translated between her and the police. She had left her keys to her rented scooter and all of its locks in the ignition and they were now stolen. She was in a difficult spot since not only couldn’t she get back to the town where she was staying, but if the scooter was stolen, she’d be out a $3000 deposit. The clever plan the gendarme came up with was to let the air out of the tires so if the guy came back for it he wouldn’t be able to drive it away. With my just adequate language skills, we had it all sorted out in about 5 minutes, for which she was excessively grateful. I found her a taxi to get her home since she was still pretty frazzled from the whole experience. (That’s why I didn’t take a picture – didn’t want to frazzle her further.)

I walked the whole length of the port. There were no parties, but a beautiful view of Cannes, so I went back to the hotel. So while I struck out party-wise, I still ended up helping somebody out and making a new lifelong friend. So the evening wasn’t a total loss. That’s Cannes for you.

I heard from Victoria the next day. Apparently, the guy did come back and try to steal the scooter, but the cops got him. She ended up turning around halfway home and dealing with the cops until 6am. But the scooter’s ok, as is her deposit.