One look up and down the bar, and I knew instantly that it was film festival time.

If it wasn't the threesome that was composed of a late-50-something blonde done up in her best Jessica Rabbit outfit accompanied by her 20-something date (in tails) and a two-cell-phoned greasy- haired 50-something sporting a ring on every finger that positively screamed "sleazy agent," then it was the tiny brunette - aghast at being upstaged by Ms. Rabbit - in a shimmering gold-sequined dress squired around by her cape- and top-hat-wearing beau, that confirmed the suspicion.

Now, it is expected that out-of-town festivalgoers are going to throw their cultural weight around by affecting airs of sophistication and indignity, but sometimes the locals will rise to the challenge by becoming more difficult to deal with themselves.

That occurred to me after I set down some cloudy wheat beers in front of a silver-haired goateed man and his companion, when the female half of the couple sitting next to him piped up.

"You look familiar," she said.

"I do?" he said.

"Yes. Have we met?"

"It's probably because a lot of men my age are wearing goatees," he said, dodging her question.

Funny, I thought he looked familiar too, but I was too engaged in a conversation with the cape-wearing man about the current cultural relevance of old English clothing to give it much thought.

When the goateed man's dinner guest arrived, I recognized him as a well-known actor. Suddenly, I

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recognized G-man too. He was the editor-cum-columnist for a well-known Bay Area newspaper, who might be most famous for his former actress wife (a true blond, if you know what I mean).

So far it was business as usual for a film festival - unless capes, cougarish Jessica Rabbits, a reformed newspaper editor, several local celebs spraying their territory and a famous actress or two, constitutes unusual. If it does, I might suggest that you stay home this weekend.

For me, however, the real unusual was just beginning.

A familiar face sat down surrounded on all sides by out-of-towners, actresses and actors, and one goateed newsman. Now, I have waited on her more times than I can count, in at least three restaurants, and I had never had a problem with her. Over the years I have witnessed three or four hairstyles, two boyfriends and a couple of career course changes.

But ours was an odd relationship because she never acknowledged knowing me in any visible way. I had introduced myself to her at least a half a dozen times, but each time she acted as if she didn't know me.

It really didn't bother me; in the world of bartending you play a lot of slightly unusual psychological games.

She ordered drinks and a salad without much fuss. Then she noticed G-man, which marked a change in her.

I was in mid-dinner special spiel to a balding pony-tailed man and his crew-cutted date when she waved me over.

"Yes?"

"Can you tell me what the skirt steak is like?"

"Sure. It's kind of like hangar steak, a fibrous meat used in fajitas," I said launching into a familiar description. Unfortunately I only got to the "hangar steak" part.

"It is not hangar steak," she said, her voice rising in pitch, timbre and volume. "I have had long conversations with my butcher about it and I know all about it."

If that were the case then perhaps I had misunderstood her question.

"I have written a cookbook on the subject and I can tell you that skirt steak and hangar steak are not the same thing," she said practically yelling the last part.

"In fact I wish someone would write a story about me because I am such an expert on the subject," she said looking in G-man's direction.

Unfortunately for her, G-man was already gone. Now it was just me, her and several visibly shocked out-of-towners.

Her shoulders visibly slumped.

"Would you like the skirt steak?" I asked, breaking the silence.

"The what?" she said looking at me like I was out of my mind.

Hours later, when I had time to think things through, over an impeccably chilled self-made martini, I had four semi-disconnected thoughts:

- Sometimes, the locals can be far crazier than any of the made up out-of-towners.

- Halle Berry is as beautiful in person (and as gracious) as she appears on screen.

- If you are a writer who doesn't want to be recognized in public, then you might not want to put your picture on your columns.

- Be careful what you wish for, you just might get it.

Jeff Burkhart is an award-winning bartender at a Marin bar/restaurant and an author. His columns appear weekly in Here. Contact him at jeffb@thebarflyonline.com.