Pic: Big Mike the Tyrannosaurus Rex. Museum of the Rockies, Bozeman, MT
I nearly choked on my lunch while flipping through hotel rooms in West Yellowstone. Prices were about twice what I expected to pay, especially given how old most buildings in town appeared. Bozeman was less than two hours away and seemed far more reasonable. I ended up splurging on a Quality Inn in nearby airport/bedroom community Belgrade; at $140/night, it would be my most expensive room of the trip. The bed sure was comfy, though.
The drive took me up US-191, where I learned that the Montana constitution requires its citizens to take up fly fishing. As the highway followed the meandering Gallatin River, every pull-out held a Subaru or a pick-up watching over someone wearing waders and plying a riffle below.
I emailed my friend and former southwestern Montana resident Bill for suggestions to fill my couple days in town. I would eventually do everything on his excellent list, but I started with a cheesesteak from Pickle Barrel and an afternoon at Museum of the Rockies.
Since Bill had limited my search of the extensive sandwich menu to a single entry, my only decision was “small or large?”
“How big are the sizes?” I asked.
“The small is a little over eight inches,” the friendly college-aged woman behind the counter told me.
“Heh, well that’s–”
“–and the large is seventeen inches.”
“Good lo–”
“Here, I’ll show you.” She walked back to a shelf of fresh hoagie rolls and held one up for me.
“Wow, it really is seventeen inches.”
I ordered the small sandwich.
Lunch in hand, I found a shady spot near Big Mike and enjoyed a delicious (if not necessarily authentic) cheesesteak and a few hours in a cool museum with lots of dinosaurs.
Pic: My friend Mike the Samoan power top has the same rule. Museum of the Rockies, Bozeman, MT
Danger Beyond This Point 