My short film, "Girls Room,'' is screening in the "Friends for Life'' program of the Athens International Film Festival. However, it's slotted for 11 a.m. Wednesday -- a bit early for a college student. There is nothing worse than screening your film to a crowd of three. So, crossing my fingers….

I'm in luck. The fine students of Federal Hocking are on a fieldtrip, spending the day viewing several of the festival's short film programs. They nearly fill the theater. Woo hoo!

But now I must deliver. If there's no laughter, no response, I can't blame an empty theater. Festival Director Ruth Bradley introduces me as a local girl, and the young gentleman in front of me offers up some of his Skittles, which I accept.

Off to a good start.

The crowd's a discerning bunch. Stronger films get applause; weaker films do not. Rough. What will be the fate of "Girls Room,'' a quirky little film about horrors of the school bathroom? Will these folks connect? Will they relate? Oh, I'm getting nervous.

Finally, it's time. The opening music I've heard a thousand times starts up. My colleague, Andie Walla, is nice enough to provide some supportive chuckles in the first few minutes, but I know from experience that the humor doesn't really
hit until about minute 4. And that's when I hear what I like to call the Lead Laugher.

All comedic filmmakers hope and pray that there is a Lead Laugher in the house for their screenings. This is the loud, confident, brazen laugher -- the one who usually laughs alone for the first few chuckles but eventually draws all into following his or her lead. Especially those wondering, "Should I be laughing about this?"

And so it happens once again. This time, the Lead Laugher is a strong female voice, and she quickly wrangles her troops. Guys and girls alike go on the ride and come off smiling.  As the credits roll, my Skittles-toting friend turns to me and says,  "You think that's bad, you gotta see the boys' bathroom!''

Sequel anyone?