The time... March, 2000

Part One: Eastbound
About fourteen years ago, after we were pretty sure we had survived that whole “Y2K” thing pretty much intact (read: Our computer continued to function, but the steering wheel fell off in our ’88 station wagon) we decided to venture forth to points east of our digs.

Specifically, we traveled from our Eastern (read: Very Eastern) Washington roost to go see Audio Adrenaline in Montana (State Motto: Welcome to Montana. Now go home.).

Now before you get in a tizzy, thinking we are usually wont to travel hundreds of miles to catch a concert, please note: at the time I was a 9-1-1 dispatcher for a rural North Idaho county. (OK, I admit, “rural North Idaho” is redundant.)

Anyway, my overnight shift made me the only dispatcher in the entire county, so I couldn’t say, “Hey, I won’t be in today because I have a rock concert to catch in Spokane (only 78 miles away) tonight. Hope nobody calls in with an emergency.”

While I was scheduled to work the night they would actually be in my state, I had two days off when they were going to be in nearby Montana. It’s like this: the Idaho Panhandle is like 18 feet across up north, so Montana isn’t actually that far away from Washington up in what was our neck of the wheat fields.

I should note here that Idaho’s motto is “The ‘Leave Me Alone’ State.”

OK, back to the road trip. On the way out to Billings, to catch the first show of our two-concert tour, we stopped in the lovely college town of Missoula. There we stayed at the “Lewis and Clark Motel” famous because Lewis and Clark stayed there while they were heading to the Pacific. The Hardee’s in town had biscuits and gravy for breakfast, so we need not say more.

Let me say a thing or two about rate of travel in Montana. There’s a reason they were the only state without daytime speed limits for a while. Looking at a map, you might say, “Oh, Billings is just across the state.” But in reality, Billings is, like, further east than New Jersey. And while our rental van did have automatic sliding doors and a compass, it did not have GPS (See my commentary on GPS in the “Long drive, Walk with Limp” Meandering stream.)

OK, so we’re in a rental minivan which had less that 40 miles on it when we picked it up, and we crest the Continental Divide…and you can see for the next 300 miles.

NOTE: Back in 1987 the band WhiteHeart released a song called “Montana Sky” on their “Emergency Broadcast” album. The song spoke of how God’s love is as endless as the Montana Sky. If I were to write a sequel song it would be “I-90 in Montana,” because that was endless!

I’m actually still on I-90 in Montana, looking for North Dakota.

So you can see for the next 300 miles, and specifically, I see that there are no police for the next 300 miles. Now, at the time, the speed limit in central Montana was a paltry 75 m.p.h., and a quick glance at the clock and some quick math from the last sign (“Billings---9,000 miles”) led me to realize that I would have to slightly exceed the speed limit.

OK, I went 115 m.p.h., which is slightly slower than the average high school freshman after finding out he has to take a shower after gym class.

We made it to Billings with enough time to stop at a McDonald’s (read: I’ve got kids, they’ve got a play area.) for a quick bite before standing in a line that went clear back to Missoula, in order to see Audio Adrenaline.

Part Two: Billings Department

OK, here things get a little crazy. You see, we wore these GoshAwful ugly green shirts that spelled out “A-U-D-I-O - A” when we stood in the right order. Riley Armstrong was in the lobby signing autographs on anything that people placed in front of him. (Riley’s Motto: “I’m from Canada, eh?”; (Canada’s Motto: “We’re just like you guys, but with cheaper pharmacies, eh?”)) Riley’s first album for Flicker had just been released while we were somewhere between Butte and Billings, so he was eager to slap his signature on anything that didn’t move (or moved slowly enough.)

So, Riley thinks the A-U-D-I-O - A shirts are really cool, and says he’ll tell “the boys in the band who sing We’re a band” about it. So we tell Riley “Maybe someday you’ll be headlining, and we’ll do R-I-L-E-Y - A shirts, so what’s your favorite color?” He tells us “Blue” (even though his new album features a song called “Silver and Green” (which beats out “GoshAwful ugly Green” by miles.))


Part III: Westbound Pit stop

The next day, we’re in Helena, conveniently at the next stop in the “Underdog” Tour. We have tickets for this show, too. In the early (before noon) hours of the morning, we traveled to the Helena Wal*Mart to purchase (you guessed it) BLUE T-shirts. (Actually, GoshAwful Ugly blue shirts.) and a roll of duct tape. (One of Riley’s Gimmicks is Duct Tape Wallets, you see. (He’s from Canada, which means “Silver and Green” could just have likely been called “Red Green.”)

Anyway, we spell out R-I-L-E-Y -A in duct tape on the shirts. (I got Y.) That night, we’re at the venue, and Riley is completely flattered. (He then signs all our shirts because we didn’t move fast enough.) So it turns out, Riley’s entire extended family and all his friends from Alberta are at the show, (read: Sellout crowd) and one of the gang gets a picture of us with him.


Part IV: Field Sobriety Test

OK, the show’s over. We’re heading west as fast as our mini-van will take us. OK, not completely as fast as it can take us. I know from the day before that it can take us in excess of 100 mph. But we’re in the low 80s anyway. It’s late, it’s dark. I’ve wolfed down half a fifteen-foot long sub sandwich from the deli at some Albertson’s-like store somewhere … I have no idea where. (I’ll go out on a limb and say it’s some town located on I-90.)

Anyway, I’m exhausted, chugging along minding my own business when suddenly one of Montana’s finest decides I’m going too fast. (Probably because I was going too fast.)

The officer pulls us over, shining one of those 1 million lumen lights in my rearview mirror, instantly frying my eyes into an open position, and melting my eyebrows.

After giving him my ID, he informs me I had been driving 84 miles per hour in a 75 zone.

“Mr. Creelman, do you know how fast that is?” he asked. “There are deer out tonight. Do you know what would happen if you hit a deer at 84 miles per hour?”

“Gee, I bet it would be as bad as hitting one at 75!” I thought, but did not say. (Hey, I was on a dark highway with an armed man.) “Seems the airbags would deploy either way.” (This I also thought but did not say.)

“No,” I said, without thinking.

“It would be bad,” he said. “Why do you have duct tape on your shirt?”

“I was at a rock concert in Helena,” I said, but did not think.

The words “Field Sobriety Test” actually flashed before my eyes. I was a police dispatcher. I knew I had just stepped into a mine field.

“A CHRISTIAN rock and roll concert,” Julie hollered from the passenger seat.

The police officer let me go with the police equivalent of a comment card. Not even a warning, really.

I silently thanked God and verbally thanked Julie. Being in the middle of rural Montana, I had no idea where “Downtown” was, and didn’t really want to see it.


If you liked this, check out my novel!
Phoenix Flight: Rise of the Phoenix Flight (Special Edition): Phoenix Flight Book One