My Cousin Vinny
Our journey continued to a town called Big Timber. The reason we chose it as a potential future home? Our dog’s name is Timber. Makes perfect sense, doesn’t it? So, once again, I picked a hotel. A “bed and breakfast” type place on a ranch, even though we’re really not the B&B type. We were all “out there” and completely open-minded on this trip, so why not. Except that the farther we got down this dirt road, the creepier it got. I mean burned out, sparse, only trees and cows for miles and miles, and pretty soon, even they started to disappear.
I started to wonder if I let anyone know our itinerary. You know – the last place they should check in the event we disappear? We made an executive decision to forfeit our deposit, and head back to the Super 8 by the highway. Hey it was a Super 8, but there’s something to be said for knowing what to expect. Once we checked into the Super 8, JR called the B&B to tell them we wouldn’t be making our reservation. The woman of the house said, “Oh, we were really looking forward to having you!” And JR told me, “Yeah, for dinner!” It was THAT weird.
We decided to go out for a drink. We walked into this bar and had a “My Cousin Vinny” moment where everyone looked up from their drinks, it seemed as though all music and conversation stopped, there was a long pause, and everyone went back to normal. Okay, we’re not from Big Timber. Maybe we’re still a little shiny. Maybe we’re even “City Folk.” But hey – we spent the night in Yellowstone, on the ground, and we just saved ourselves from being eaten at a cannibal farm disguised as a B&B. We just wanted a beer.
The following morning, it was time for breakfast again. That day, I think they cracked the eggs right on my plate. Why bother with heat, or be concerned by salmonella? It is Montana after all. Toughen up. Chase it with some of the raw bacon.
To be continued…