A few thoughts on this year’s festival, in no particular order.

Best festival development: The addition of late-night press screenings for many of the festival’s big-ticket films. This allowed for greater flexibility in the morning and afternoon, reduced the chance of getting shut out and provided an opportunity for a second look, at least for those of us who could stay awake. (Allowing for nodding out, I’ve now seen I’m Not There roughly 1.6 times.)

Clearest sign the press was grateful: The "we couldn’t have this festival without volunteers" commercial was applauded at nearly every movie. In previous years, the commercial would receive applause only at public screenings. Anyone who clapped at press screenings—invariably volunteers themselves—would get dirty looks.

Number of days before Cadillac’s "be an original" commercials, which show a hack screenwriter pitching comically plagiarized ideas ("An artistic soul…who scares people…just because his hands…are scissors"), were heckled: Eight, about seven longer than I expected.

Most amusing reaction to a festival commercial: The cries of "Arrr"—as in "arrr, matey"—that greeted the antipiracy commercial, in tribute to Midnight Madness programmer Colin Geddes, who invented what he called the "arrr antipiracy policy."

Commercial most immune to heckling: Cineplex. Give us something to work with, people.

Most awkward interaction with festival volunteers: At the official Starbucks Coffee Canada counter outside the press office. Two people stand there behind four vats of what I believe is the same blend. Only one size is available. You stare at them, they stare back. You stare at them, they stare back. You ask, "Coffee?," and they happily oblige.

Number of days my Starbucks butter croissant (purchased elsewhere) sat at the bottom of my knapsack before I ate it: Three.

Most annoying person at the press-and-industry screenings: The woman who insisted on flipping her curly long hair over the back of the seat every five minutes at a screening of Jia Zhangke’s Useless. I believe this was the same person who, rather than move to one of 100 empty seats at the Atonement screening, announced to the entire audience that the glow from her neighbor’s cell phone was bothering her.

Best festival rumor: That nearly 99-year-old Portuguese director Manoel de Oliveira, whose Christopher Columbus, the Enigma is playing here, has been lying about his age, and is actually close to 102.

Number of times a pigeon almost flew into my head: Two. (Number of times per week a pigeon almost flies into my head during the walk between Lake Street Screening Room and Time Out’s office: Two.)

Most obvious geographical/transportational revelation: That for those of us staying near Yonge Street who hate shlepping to the Scotiabank Theatre (formerly the Paramount), it’s faster to take the subway around the loop to Osgoode, rather than disembarking at Queen Street and walking.

Number of times I ate at either Spring Rolls or the Green Mango, two restaurants near the Cineplex Odeon Varsity that offer fantastically gloppy takeout: Lost count, but it’s been nearly every day.

Number of days it took before I developed a sore throat, in this high-calorie, low-vegetable, zero-sleep environment: Seven.