The Gorge Amphitheatre, originally known as Champs de Brionne Music Theatre and commonly referred to as The Gorge, is an outdoor concert venue in Grant County, Washington, United States. It is situated near the Columbia River in Central Washington, nine miles (14 km) west of George. The venue is managed by Live Nation.
One of the several concerts I’ve enjoyed over the years was the Alanis Morissette concert for her Can’t Not Tour, at the Gorge at George on June 1, 1996.
Jagged Little Pill (1995)
Jagged Little Pill is the third studio album by Canadian-American singer Alanis Morissette, released on June 13, 1995, by Maverick and her first album to be released worldwide. It marked a significant stylistic departure from dance-pop sound of Morissette’s first two albums, Alanis (1991) and Now Is the Time (1992). Morissette began work on the album after moving from her hometown Ottawa to Los Angeles, where she met producer Glen Ballard. Morissette and Ballard had an instant connection and began co-writing and experimenting with sounds. The experimentation resulted in an alternative rock album that takes influence from post-grunge and pop rock, and features guitars, keyboards, drum machines, and harmonica. The lyrics touch upon themes of aggression and unsuccessful relationships, while Ballard introduced a pop sensibility to Morissette’s angst.[8] The title of the album is taken from a line in the first verse of the song “You Learn“.
I was one year removed graduating from Mountlake Terrace High School in 1995 when Alanis dropped Jagged Little Pill. I was dating a girl that was two years my junior, and definitely loved this album. She purchased the CD right away, and played it numerous times in her vehicle.
Soon after Alanis’s success in the USA, she started touring. The Can’t Not Tour for the summer 1996 was EPIC. You see, my girlfriend was set to graduate that year, so this was a graduation party of sorts. And you bet many of the songs Alanis would perform were off the Jagged Little Pill album.
My girlfriend loves (ed) live music, especially large scale concerts – still does to this day.
One of the Can’t Not Tour stops was George, Washington, specifically the Gorge Amphitheater. Camping was allowed, since we were poor college kids (or college-bound kids) this was are first, and move viable option.
And camping with friends is awesome. I had some budding event coordination skills, in addition to leadership role amongst my peers.
A plan was started …
All I Really Want
I lived with two buddies, *Bartles and James, at the Evergreen Townhomes near Edmonds Community College. Both own pickup trucks, with camping equipment. I had my camping gear from my Boy Scouting days, too.
Bartles worked at the local Safeway in the Produce Department, and Art was older than us, and he knew even more older guys so our situation was Morrissette “Perfect”.
We heard from Dave Matthews Band fans that returned from a recent concert at the Gorge that it’s been renovated and it looks wicked cool. (yes, we said that in the 1990’s) However, security has been increased which you can only bring in sealed, new non-alcoholic beverages.
Bartles had a suggestion that was inspired his daily observation of produce purchaser at his store … It’s an idea that will wait, like a “Hand in my pocket”.
Head Over Feet
In the mid-1990’s Odwalla offered fresh pressed fruit juice with a self-service machine, and bottling device. [Yeah, that’s before cases of E coli claimed the lives of younger folks with undercooked hamburgers and tainted fruit juice.]
The 1996 Odwalla E. coli outbreak began on October 7, 1996, when American food company Odwalla produced a batch of unpasteurized apple juice using blemished fruit contaminated with the E. coli bacterium, which ultimately killed a 16-month-old girl and sickened 70 people in California, Colorado, Washington state, and British Columbia, of whom 25 were hospitalized and 14 developed hemolytic uremic syndrome.[1] Odwalla made and marketed unpasteurized fruit juices for the health segment of the juice market.[2]
James and I provided airplane bottles of adult beverages to Bartles to put into the plastic Odwalla bottle before filling the rest with orange juice, and heat sealing the top. You see, “You Learn” to be resourceful when you’re poor college kids!
*Mary Jane and I drove her Toyota Celica while Bartles and James followed in a pickup truck. Once we were settled down and set up at our campsite, we were excited to enter the Gorge Ampitheater with our contraband like children with a new swear word.
On the way there, Bartles pick up stopped working near Elk Heights Road on I-90 East. He managed to coast to a stop on a farmer’s dirt road. We left a note for us to retrieve later as we were concert bound.
For the amount of alcohol that we rat-packed into each bottle of OJ, it was more than enough for the entire group. Let alone each of us killing one or two bottles each! At one point, I wandered off from the group, because I’m “that guy” at the party.
Well, I standing on the hillside facing away from the stage and at the 3 girls on a blanket. Bartles and James had it in their mind to be on all fours behind me, with the other pushing me down the hill. Instead of just grabbing my shorts, James grabbed my underwear too. With my clothing around my ankles, and my junk in their faces, their facial expression changed rapidly.
I toppled over “Head Over Feet” as I rolled to the bottom of the hill. My dick was in the dirt, then skyward, roll, roll, roll. My girlfriend and friends are laughing out. I stopped abruptly into the backs of concert-goers, half-naked.
Thankfully, I was obliterated by two bottles of jungle juice, but still embarrassed. I gathered up what little dignity, and clothing, to keep walking into the crowd in front of the stage. I was butt-hurt so I continued to avoid my crew until after the concert.
Wake Up
I didn’t bring a flashlight, so I couldn’t see into the darkness to find my camping site and friends easily. I eventually ended up at the campsite but encounter something that broke my heart so I backed away quietly.
I wept as I walked around the camping area. A female voice called out to me from the darkness. “Hey, you. C’mon over.”
I dried my eyes as I greeted the voice. “What’s up?”
“There’s some sadness behind those eyes. Cop-a-squat next to me,” she invited, so I did. “What’s your name nomad?”
I meekly answer, “Carlos, but my friends call me Los.” I looked around the circle of people sitting crossed legs around a Coleman lantern.
She has a device in hand, one that I’ve seen Dad use. She draws into her lungs to puffs, and hands to me. “Aiight, Los. Puff, puff, pass. Ok?”
I did as instructed. My head was immediately clouded with THC that slowed my experience. Around the circle it went. We did this until at least I passed out.
I woke up underneath a pickup truck bed with no shorts, one sock, and one shoe nearby.
Not The Doctor
In high school I had an odd fascination with photography, and the trucking company C.R. England & Sons. On the drive back, at the top of Snoqualmie Pass on I-90 West, we ran up on the famous trucking company tractor trailer rig.
I reached into the backseat, grabbed my 35mm film camera from Bartles and James, and lowered the window. *Mary Jane thought I was doing that so I avoid the reflection. Oh, no, no.
I wiggled my way on the top of the window sill, half my body inside, half outside as Mary Jane barreled along at 85mph. I clicked away, and vowed to call this my 85mph photo. MJ was yelling in fear to get back into the car!
I eventually complied.
Then I heard some of the tirade she leveled at me for such an act for a photograph! We made it home without further incident.
los, Fil-Am Renaissance Man 