Cheers, Portland

2009

The town of Portland, Oregon and I have a relationship of extremes. That is to say, I am at once enraptured and disgusted, admiring and eye rolling, in love and exasperated. However, I suppose here is neither the time nor the place to go into the greater details of my history with the Rose City.

. . .

I had recently returned home for the summer. The moment was both promising and bittersweet. I was simultaneously on the cusp of an exciting job and an entire season of enjoying my newly minted non-minor status as well as doing the sort of re-evaluation one seems to find a necessary evil at some point(s) in their college career.

The first warm evening of the summer I found myself with nothing to do. With two good hours of sunlight left I rolled my bike onto the MAX and whizzed towards downtown. It would be my first excursion in the city with my new cherry red cruiser, which I had dubbed “Bettie Page,” thinking I was perhaps more clever than I truly was. Decked out in my ultra uncool red helmet and makeshift-reflective seafoam green workout shorts, I was ready to ride.

Once in the heart of the city I pedaled towards the twinkling lights, bustling noise and competing smells of cotton candy, hot dog and carnival pony coming from the waterfront Rose Festival. I gingerly weaved through the crowded bike path, crossing the bridge, watching the city sunset from the east. By this time, my new bike seat seemed less comfortable with each pedal and I pushed back on my coaster brakes and smoothly stopped near an open bench for a break. Slowly removing my helmet, I sat down and rested my feet on my parked bike sitting in front of me, squinting at the sun.

From my solitary seat the cars scooting along the bridges, the festival rides swirling and twirling, and the chatter of people on the bike path behind me provided an intoxicating glimpse into the city’s simultaneous discordance and harmony. I breathed a deep sigh of contentment and soaked in the city around me.

Suddenly, a noise startled me and I was jolted from a relaxed gaze. A man, perhaps in his early 30s met my eyes with a smile. His face was dingy, but not filthy, and he carried a faded backpack and guitar case slung around his shoulder. With one hand he pulled a bottle from a sixpack and set it in my hand, resting on the side of the bench.

“Can I give you a few bucks for this?” I asked, caught off guard by his generosity.

“No, no,” he replied with a chuckle. “Just keep sittin’ and starin’ like you were.”

As I opened the bottle with my shirt folded into my hand I quietly smiled to myself… Only in Portland do the homeless people drink microbrews.

I asked the man what his name was, he said it was Tracy. We chatted briefly, then found ourselves quietly sitting alone on our separate benches. After thanking him I sat back, took a swig from my bottle, and watched the last glimmers of the sun dance on the river water. Tracy and I made eye contact and I raised my bottle in a silent toast.

“Here’s to me,” he said, “and here’s to you.”

At that moment, his concise words seemed perfect. Perfect because the moment seemed to encapsulate what I love best about this city—everyone can simply be themselves. Perhaps this is the type of experience that writers for the New York Times hope to capture in their increasingly frequent articles about the city.

Part of me is excited that people finally see the unique world Portland has to offer, but, at the same time, the rest of me wants the city to remain a quiet treasure. That Sunday night I sat on the bench with my bike, beer and buddy, I experienced the city for what it is—the sights, the sounds, the smells and most importantly, the unique moments of human interaction.

To Portland, I think Tracy said it best… Here’s to me.

And here’s to you.

Summer Plans

Originally published, Bulletin, 2009

As the year comes to a close, we may find ourselves writhing in the emotional doldrums. The economy is in the can, snow flurried on campus in April and various other social maladies continue to pursue us with dogged perseverance. But never fear! There are still some great events yet to come and some simply ridiculous entertainment memories to reconsider.

This year brought the inevitable clash of Britney Spears' circus-like existence and her eponymous comeback album, we saw a greasy Russell Brand offend everyone with both his salacious pseudo-jokes and his preposterous rat's nest hairdo, and a cadre of celebrity crotch shots, not to mention a relatively lackluster year at the Hollywood box office.

While the school year may be coming to a close, the spring and summer entertainment season is just heating up. On-campus events like the Death Cab concert and Madonnastock still loom on the horizon. Also, regional summer events promise entertainment.

On April 24, Death Cab for Cutie will descend upon Gonzaga and headline a long set at McCarthey. Death Cab has gotten the brunt of the publicity but the concert also features Ra Ra Riot and Cold War Kids - two bands that shouldn't go unnoticed. Cold War Kids blend a rock style with a bit of a hipster edge and Ra Ra Riot is an indie rock band that pumps an energetic vibe. See below for info about where they will be playing this summer. I am the first to get in line behind Death Cab but their openers are not to be merely ignored as such. Tuning out during these opening acts in impatience for the main show would be a mistake!

The following day, Gonzaga University tradition Madonnastock will play on Foley Lawn. Last year, the weather cooperated and a bright sunny day ushered in the good, the bad and the hilarious in on-campus bands. Highlights included a jean short-clad Rod Aminian as frontman of Boy Rainbow 2.0. Ok, so maybe the tunes aren't always rockin', but who doesn't love sitting outside and enjoying (even bad) music? With an exceptionally long winter behind us, students campus-wide should be ready for a healthy dose of sunshine.

May 23-25, many will make the trek to the Gorge to see the Sasquatch Music Festival. This ultra-cool 3-day music-a-thon features kickass bands like the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, Kings of Leon, The Decemberists, Ra Ra Riot, former Spokanite DJ James Pants, Mos Def, TV On the Radio, of Montreal, Erykah Badu, Girl Talk and Santigold … just to name a few. The festival also features comedy from comedians like Todd Barry and The Whitest Kids U'Know. Just go see this thing; it's totally worth it.

If you don't want to travel far, Hoopfest is for you. A Spokane tradition, Hoopfest lines the streets with hundreds of ballers and wannabes playing 4-on-4 games. This year, the tournament is June 27 and 28 and promises the same sort of relaxed atmosphere it brings back year after year. Head downtown to see some of these games, ranging in competitiveness from laid-back to cutthroat.

For those who prefer their entertainment while they sit on the couch, the NBA playoffs are sure to thrill. Normally, I would make some snide remark about the extremely long playoff season or the glacial pace at which teams advance through the tournament, but this year it's different for one reason - the Portland Trail Blazers. You may be saying, "Why would I give a crap about the Blazers?" Well, with the unfortunate demise of the entity formerly known as the Seattle Sonics, the Blazers are geographically the closest thing Spokane has to a "home team" in the NBA. The days of the Jail Blazers are gone and what better way to celebrate the end of the academic year by cracking a cold one and watching Brandon Roy and the boys rock the tourney?

As we draw closer to bidding the 2008-2009 academic year adieu, let's get ready to celebrate with on-campus events and summer fun alike. So get out there and enjoy the sun! Take a study break to catch great on-campus music or set your sights on summer entertainment - either way, you're guaranteed to have a good time.

How MTV Became Cool Without Carson

originally published, Bulletin, 2009

Most of us can remember the days when middle school girls wearing their butterfly clips and their back pocket-less jeans and boys in their polos and cargo shorts hopped off the bus, enjoyed whatever micro­waved snack and religiously flipped the channel to TRL. Or perhaps, we remember entire high school Saturdays filled with "Next" marathons and being able to name the castmates from each season of "Real World." After years of arguing over MTV's relative coolness to "sell out" ratio and their noticeable lack of music videos, we reach a new point.

Today, there is no more "TRL," and "Real World" goes unnoticed in a sea of reality TV; a geriatric pioneer slowly drifting away, and shows like "Next" and "Room Raiders" are reserved solely for drunken 3 a.m. viewing. The current lineup includes shows like "Rob Dyrdek's Fantasy Factory," "Nitro Circus," Justin Timberlake-produced "The Phone."

These shows feature over-the-top stunts, wild re-creation of material dreams, neck-breaking dance moves, and heart-pumping drama . . . at least they're supposed to. With these new shows, as well as the rotating graphics-based identity of the MTV brand, many ask if MTV is regaining their cool.

At first glance, it seems so. The network's seamless integration of music and TV shows forces a top-40 soundtrack to our lives (much to the chagrin of music junkies) and likely provides ample space to drive iTunes downloads. However, it is the new lineup of shows that says a bit more. These shows provide escape.

In tense economic, political and social times, it sometimes seems like worldly woes burden our every thought. Each show offers a unique moment of withdrawal for the viewer in a different way.

"Fantasy Factory" is perhaps the most obvious of these escapist shows, offering both the subjects and the viewer a momentary promise of eternity spent in fantasy life within a pimped-out warehouse. Like his old show and undeniable crowd-pleaser, "Rob & Big," Dyrdek and Co. promise hilarity and outrageousness in 30-minute blocks. Whether Dyrdek is building a massive zipline across the building, enough skateboard ramping to inspire relative awe, or scheming up a new, outlandish fantasy to fulfill, the viewer is sucked into a world where one can remain a child forever. In "Fantasy Factory," looming economic fallout or global warfare stand down to giant inflatable toys and an indoor go-kart track. Like the title says, Dyrdek offers us a fantastical wormhole in which to escape the worries of the world.

Similarly, "Nitro Circus" contributes to the network as a crypto-"Jackass" without the drug-addled Steve-O or ringleader Johnny Knoxville (well, beside their persistent "cam­eos"). Just think of "Nitro Circus" as a "Jackass" with con­siderably fewer liters of vomit. In the show, Travis Pastrana and other BMX riders scour the world in search of the next stunt and thrill.

Years ago, stunt pros like Evel Kneivel captivated audiences with death defying jumps and cannon exits. The members of "Nitro Circus" offer an updated ver­sion of amusement through possibly bone-shattering feats of man and machine. However, unlike Knievel, it seems that the point of "Nitro Circus" is to capture an off-hand crash, burn, explosion or otherwise unfortunate bodily injury. Catering to a more stunt-sensitive audience today, "Nitro Circus" ap­peals to the same kids as Knievel but with a bit less class.

Justin Timberlake's "The Phone," which debuted Saturday night, puts contestants (who apparently have no knowledge of what awaits them) in a game of high-stakes cash prizes in exchange for daring risks at the beckoning call of an anonymous, heavily accented phone operator. Some say the show is merely an "Amazing Race" or "Survivor" remake with JT's face plastered on it. However, I argue the show is about much more than that. In a world where things seem constantly in flux, the idea of an omnipotent higher power (the phone operator, did someone say "Deal or No Deal") commanding seemingly heroic feats of mind and body for a greater goal appeals . . . and indeed holds some serious symbolism.

To some, these shows mean nothing; they simply rep­resent a dumbing-down of American youth, a gluttonous society based on conspicuous spending, or a culture obsessed with bloody injury. However, they seem to provide at least temporary escape from worldly woes and transport us to dif­ferent time, chronological age, or financial means.

Maybe MTV isn't so meaningless after all.