Roadtrip Blogging: Missoula, Montana

Missoula, Montana is a nice amalgam of college town and Montana town.  There are young people with expensive bicycles and ironic mullets, and there are old-timers with expensive motorcycles and traditional mullets.  I can’t honestly say that I saw an expensive motorcycle being driven by a man with a traditional mullet, but I’d wager they exist.  Maybe the mullets hide beneath the helmets.

Who knows?

The temperature yesterday in Missoula shot up to 85, and I got a sunburn walking around downtown alone and smoking cigarettes on the esplanade by the Clark Fork River.  I hypothesized that it was called the Clark Fork because Lewis and Clark split up somewhere along their journey, and maybe Clark was the one who came upon what would later be Missoula.  I did not verify, naturally.  I did not need to.  My hypothesis suits me nicely.

My friend Amy and I spent the evening with her roommate Michelle, and her friend Jack.  Jack and I talked women while Amy talked on the phone to her boyfriend.  I made chili.  In order to make the chili I had to go to the grocery store.  To wit, let me tell you something about food shopping in Montana:  meat is cheap.  Ch-e-ap.  Extraordinarily cheap.  I bought two pounds of spare ribs for two dollars and fifty cents.  That’s how cheap.  And they were good.  Damned good.  Especially in the chili.  Which was also good.  Damned good, if I do say so myself.

Though I don’t think Amy liked it.

I went to sleep around midnight, woke up at four, fell back asleep, woke up at seven to the smell of fresh brewed coffee.  Remember that Folgers ad campaign, the one that said, “The best part of waking up is Folger’s in your cup”?  And the ads would always have a woman arising with her nostrils flaring in joy, and her darling husband downstairs brewing a fresh pot of Folgers, and she’d come down and be oh-so happy and in love with her husband, because all he has to do to keep her happy is brew Folgers every morning?  Remember those?  It was kind of like that, but the coffee was better, and I got out of bed reluctantly.

Then I gave Amy a hug and left.

That was Missoula.


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