For the first Story Story Night of our flagship season, MY OWN PRiVATE iDAHO: Stories of Wild States, I wanted to find the equivalent of the dress Adele wore on Saturday Night Live, which summed up a haute-couture, native-style Thanksgiving, in my leather-fringed mind. Turns out, I was no Adele. Though I did find myself screaming, Hello, can you hear me? at the Shriners, who, to my nail-biting terror, could not get their sound system to work until five minutes before our show was slated to start. Both my head and my heart nearly exploded. Which seems at least Adele adjacent. When we were younger and free. In my own private Idaho, I am in kindergarten, peeing on a tree made of masking tape in the middle of the classroom. I’d forgotten how it felt before the world fell at our feet. In my own private Idaho, I am at the summit of Thompson Peak in the Sawtooths under a raincloud clad sky. My hair ominously rises up to meet the atmosphere. As I run my hand through the thick, electric-charged air, sparks go …