Stress relieving did go too far with our group though. On the way home from the Festival HQ Marriott bar, Jason Free, Robbie Adams, his wife, director Amy Talkington and I spotted, through a window, a poor soul working on his mac at 11:30PM. I can't totally account for what happened next-either they were overworked and ready to rage at a fellow workaholic, or, ahem, tipsy-Jason and Robbie began hurling snowballs at his window. Splat after more densely packed splat, we thought he'd eventually turn around, and we'd all share a wave and a giggle, but his response? Nothing. He went from propping his chin on his hand, to leaning his cheek on it. Who was this mad genius? Covered in snow, we retreated, and spent the rest of the night marveling at his focus. Not until the next morning, when this blogger arrived at our publicist's office to get my orders for the day, did I slowly begin to realize that I was suddenly looking out the windows that they'd been pelting the night before, and that the "poor soul", was the VP of publicity. And the president of the company, who I later learned was about to call the front desk on us, was an old friend of mine. Guess I'll be buying them a "Sorry we hurled snowballs and taunted you" cake from Albertson's. If I had a nickel for every time I'd bought one of those.