LEXINGTON - If martians had descended upon Rockbridge County High School on Saturday, they could have enjoyed a delightful human picnic.

By 8 a.m., a line of folks snaked all the way around the school. Senior citizens, teens and moms with babies in strollers all stood patiently in the chilly air - a few wrapped in blankets - for a chance at a little taste of Hollywood. They were waiting to speak to casting agents about working as extras in Steven Spielberg's "War of the Worlds," which stars Tom Cruise and Tim Robbins and is to be released in the summer by Paramount Pictures.

They waited a very, very long time.

After heading out from their Rocky Mount home at 5:30 a.m., Rhonda Shively and her 14-year-old son, Seth Sigmon, arrived at the high school about 8 a.m.

They spent three hours and 35 minutes standing in line. As with everyone else, most of their waiting was done outside before entering the last stretch of the line in the high school gym.

By 10 a.m., about 950 wannabe actors stood in line. By noon, a casting representative estimated they'd received 2,000 applications and expected to see at least a thousand more people by the end of the day.

As hopefuls neared the front of the line, each was asked to fill out a form listing basic things: their names; contact information; special skills; and several measurements.

Although they didn't exactly sound like questions that would take a Mensa member to answer, how many people, other than country singers who wear cowboy hats, really know the size of their head?

Figuring that the distance from her outstretched thumb to her pinkie was about a foot long, a reporter from this newspaper, who was auditioning, guessed that her head was 36 inches in diameter.

Hastily, she scribbled the number down before approaching the casting rep, who asked two questions: Did she have a way to get to the set, and would she be able to work the week from Dec. 13 to 17?

The reporter had barely nodded an affirmative before her photo and application were tossed into a box.

Outside, a kindly gentleman with a tape measure offered to measure her head. Turns out it was 24 inches rather than 36, so even if she did win a part as an extra, she wouldn't be able to see anyone because her hat would be falling down to her chin.

Brothers Kurtis and Nate Parks of Roanoke fared better. They reported that a casting rep told them they'd probably be selected.

Jeanne Boisineau Casting, the group handling the selection of extras, had announced earlier in the week that they needed 200 physically fit men and women to play National Guardsmen as well as "all types and ages" to work in Spielberg's contemporary adaptation of the 1898 sci-fi novel by H.G. Wells about a martian invasion.

All types is certainly what they got. Businessmen stood next to blue-collar people, pierced children waited behind grandmothers.

For all the diversity, no one got upset about the long wait, and no arguments were overheard. Lots of folks made friends with the people standing near them - after all they'd had at least a couple of hours to get to know one another.

Even an exhausted Jeremy Lister managed to make some conversation with the young woman in front of him. The Old Dominion University theater student had set out from Norfolk at 2 a.m. Saturday. He finally reached the high school at 9:30 a.m., after getting lost in Richmond. "My butt is still sore, and now my feet are getting sore," the 22-year-old said.

Another man had reportedly arrived at the school at 11 p.m. Friday, hoping to be the first person seen by casting agents.

One quick-thinking entrepreneur managed to make a few bucks on the large crowd. Troy Richmond of Raphine watched a woman, who hadn't realized she needed a picture to apply, offer to pay $5 to use someone's Polaroid. After speaking with a casting rep, Richmond headed to the Lexington Wal-Mart for his own Polaroid.

For the next several hours he took photos for $2 and took measurements for 50 cents with a tape measure he'd brought from home. Though he wasn't sure how much cash he'd made by the end of the day, he had a considerable wad of bills in his pocket.

Some wannabe extras were told by a rep that they might be called as early as today if they were hired.

Another tidbit: For once, folks with Hollywood good looks won't have the edge. Ordinary people work better for the scene they're casting, which Paramount production assistant Josh Davis said involves folks freaking out after the aliens had arrived.

Sigmon, a freshman at Carlisle School in Martinsville, wasn't sweating whether or not he'd get a thumbs up from the agency. He and his mom were just hoping to find a Lexington restaurant that had a television tuned to the Virginia Tech game.