(Note: For an objective account of the trip go to Producer Kent Bye's website at http://www.kentbye.com/ but be warned that it may contain material of an offensive subject matter involving various White Surpremeicist organizations, bestiality, shaved monkeys and llamas; please check all current community standards regarding the possession and viewing of obscene material in your state or province. Thank you.)

Hey look! I'm fresh from Park City and boy, do I have some stories to tell! The Movie Stars! The Super Models! The Gin-soaked nights and the Vodka drenched days as Kent Bye, Cash Flagg, Jr., Alexandra Page, Andy Hewitt and I stumbled through an alcoholic daze into a tragic tailspin of love, crime and MURDER! Four would live, One would die and ALL WOULD BE CHANGED FOREVER!

Man, can I write copy or what? Well, here's my belated Park City Report. I would've had it sooner but there's this whole "movie-that-will-put-us-all-knee-deep-in-gold-digging whores/saucy boy toys" thing. Actually it's that and the plumbing.

My house is old, old and insane. And when she gets ornery, it's time for her to lash back at the Ecarma family the only way she knows how: RAW SEWAGE. So basically for the past week, we've been bucketing stinking filth from our basement on a near hourly basis lest even the disaster-ridden populace of Mozambique laugh at us. It got to be so bad that my dad suggested that we just stay up all night watching the stinking maw of our septic tank puke forth its creamy bounty. Or if we got up in the middle night and we were kind of bored, we could perhaps lull ourselves back to sleep through the gentle soporific that is sewage bucketing. As you can tell, my father is also old and insane.

But thank God, that's all out of the way and I won't start editing the movie for a couple of weeks until the new computer arrives. Actually, it better that I waited because taking out pail after pail of human sludge with the consistency of chocolate syrup and the stench of the freshly dead can kind of color your outlook; the first draft of this essay was unbelievably angry with lots of references to pipes and feces. But now that the time has passed, both in regards to the plumbing and the festivals, I can be insightful and reflective and impart to you, my friends, the lessons I learned from Park City, lessons which are many, but not that many as I was drinking quite a lot. And let's not forget all that heroin.

Where to begin? What's Park City like during the low-key frenzy of festival week? Well, unlike the DC area, when you introduce yourself as a filmmaker, people don't instantly laugh at you and tell you that you are stupid. In fact, they may be mildly impressed. An exchange of business cards is performed and you've either made a new friend or another person to look at sideways later because you don't remember who the hell they are.

This never happened to Kent because he's got this highly involved super brain that allows him to bend reality for he is the Lathe of Heaven. It never really happened to me because I was always loud, obnoxious, and wore a distinctive hat. I looked pretty cool; okay, maybe not cool, but kind of mysterious and rugged, like I just came back from the Yukon Territory after an ill-fated gold mining expedition where I was forced to eat Buck, my lovable sled dog. After a session of yelling at new acquaintances, I never had to remember names because I was always greeted with a cheerful "Hey jerk face!" before I uttered a word.

Another benefit of my get up is that combined with my looks, many people gave me the "Is that a famous person I shouldn't make eye contact with?' double take. And while I'm on the subject matter (even though I'm not really), I didn't get any. None. Zip. To be frank, I give off a vibe that either annoys or scares away the ladies. If I open my mouth and be myself, I'm quite the motor-mouthed wise-ass and can be pretty damned funny, if I do say so myself. But contrary to what Cosmo says, the ladies don't dig this and I have the receipts from the emergency room to prove this.

"Okay Alvin" you say, "Why don't you just shut the hell up?" If I do that, I look intense, and I mean INTENSE. Like if you came out to me and said, "Isn't it a beautiful day?" I'd turn to you all mournful-eyed and such and go "You talk to me of beauty? Whither are we moving now?.. Do we not wander through an endless nothingness? Does not empty space breath upon us? Has it not become colder and colder? Does not the night come on continually, darker and darker?" Then I'd collapse into a fit of tears and pour myself a glass of absinthe as I contemplated the dark implications of a godless existence. So I'm either really annoying or spooky as hell with no in-between. In the meantime, I'm trying to put together a charming persona where I just smile a lot and communicate through the use of sock puppets and a complicated series of spastic hand gestures.

On the other hand, Kent gives off a very unthreatening vibe along the lines of "I'm Kent Bye and I Mean You No Harm" . He's like a lanky Matthew Broderick or a skinny Michael J. Fox or a plump Mahatma Ghandi. It's something he used to his advantage in Park City, but we're not going to go there. Let me just give you two words- "Chick Magnet".

In general, our merry little band didn't arouse any suspicion as the film types that flock to Park City is a mixed lot, but I did notice an incredibly high number of pasty faced bald white guys. It must be a West coast thing. What's up with that look? Only black guys can pull off the bald look and not appear to suffering from leukemia or rickets. I guess what I'm saying is that balding white guys should either get a rug or leave their scalp in peace. So pasty face balding white guys of the world listen up: unless you' re name's Telly Savalas, DON'T SHAVE YOUR DAMN HEAD, IT ONLY MAKES YOU LOOK GAY. There.

Anyway, I did get to see a lot of famous types, even talked to a couple. When I was in the lobby of the Egyptian Theatre before American Psycho, I was buying a 1 oz. Bottle of water for the incredibly low price of my kidney when I hear from behind me "You've just got to go up to people, hand them your card and say 'I'm a filmmaker.' " I turn around to see the esteemed Film Critic himself Roger Ebert and without missing a beat I hand him my card and say "I'm a Filmmaker." He examines the card, notices the "I have no King but Caesar" quote from Jesus Christ Superstar and remarks " 'I have no King but Caesar' eh? Another great movie line is 'You will never see live to see the light of another day, Genghis Khan' ". To which I shot back "But the best line is 'Now you will Taste The Black Sperm of My Vengeance.' " ( A line from the Ebert-scripted Beyond The Valley of the Dolls Don'cha know.) "That's my line!" Ebert sputtered as I winked and left the lobby.

You may be wondering about American Psycho. Well, it sucked and sucked hard, and I'm not just saying this because the American Psycho star Christian Bale totally dissed me when I asked him to cut a promo for Atomic TV, the limey, rat bastard. But if the ladies out there don't mind sitting through two hours of Bale's channeling Phil Hartman doing "Lionel Huntz" from "The Simpsons", you do get to see his awesome abs, and fantastic, rock hard ass.

Which brings us to the movies (I think) and the possibility of getting Lethal Force into Park City in 2001. The answer is... Yes. But note I said "Park City", not Sundance, not Slamdance. I said "Park City." It would be nice to get into Sundance, but from what I've researched and witnessed, there's no way in the hell we're getting in unless some powerful muckety-mucks take a shine to the picture. Now, I know some people who know some people who know the baby-sitter of an Uncle of a powerful muckety-muck so there is a slight chance. A very slight chance.

And Slamdance? Unlike Sundance, they aren't lobbied hard by PR firms, Agents, and Producer's Reps, and powerful muckety mucks; they're about as democratic as you can get which means they get twice as many submissions as Sundance. The competition is fierce but I still feel that Lethal Force has enough going for it to stand out among all entries. So once again, a slight chance.

And what about the other festivals? There's NoDance, LapDance, SlamDunk, Digidance and they'll probably be more next year. And what I saw was that they were hungry- hungry for quality, hungry for a good movie, hungry for the Next Big Indie Hit that slipped through the fingers of Sundance and Slamdance. I'm confident enough to say Lethal Force has that potential. There is a place for the movie in Park City in 2001 somewhere. Hopefully, it'll be with the big guys, and if not with them, maybe with the upstarts. And if something goes horribly wrong and we don't get admitted anywhere, I'll set fire to the Egyptian Theatre, blame it on a rogue faction of marauding Chilean drug lords, and as the people flee the burning theatre, eyes blood shot and there faces caked with soot, I'll be outside with the old bull horn shouting "Come one, come all to 'Watch-My-Goddamn-Movie-Dance' featuring that incredible new film Lethal Force! The movie you could've let in, but didn't! Who's laughing now, you high-falutin' jerks?"