Yesterday afternoon I went up to a door on the second floor of the San Diego Convention Center. I twisted in the wind with a skeptical security guard for 20 minutes before a Disney publicist came to rescue me. She escorted me out to a white table on a sunny terrace outside. I zealously forbade the other journalists who were milling around to sit down at the table with me for another 30 minutes, while I wrote and rewrote lists of questions in a notebook. This is because I was waiting for the two greatest living makers of animated films, John Lasseter and Hayao Miyazaki, to come out and sit down next to me. Which they eventually did.