When we left Glacier National Park, we were entering a new, adventurous phase of the trip. We weren’t pulling a Lewis and Clark and going into an unknown territory. We weren’t roughing it on some mountain trail. For the first time, we were operating without hotel reservations. Being road trip veterans, we knew that it would work as long as we got a room early enough in the day, and, as we came upon Missoula, we had no worries.
My brother pulled up to a hotel, and I went in to get a room. No vacancies. We hit another hotel. No vacancies. The third one was the same.
Brother: What’s going on in town to cause this?
Me: They say it is just summer travelers.
Brother: Is there anything available? The next town is over 100 miles away.
Me: They all said that there are rooms at the C’Mon Inn.
This sent a collective moan through the car. The C’Mon Inn, really? I am sure my dad and brother had the same thoughts I did. Rooms rented by the hour. Vibrating beds. Free porn on the TV. We had a choice – drive over 100 miles or check it out. We checked it out. Guess what. The C’Mon Inn was the best interstate hotel I have ever stayed in. The rooms were great, with each one opening into a huge lobby with all kinds of activities. It was good enough that we called ahead to the C’Mon Inn in Bozeman for the next night.
The next day was relatively uneventful. We toured the Old Montana Prison in Deer Lodge.
He got his man.
After that, we made a couple of stops of personal and historical import but nothing worth blogging about.
The real treat of the day came after we checked in at the C’Mon Inn of Bozeman and went to the Museum of the Rockies. I just couldn’t figure out why it had a huge Napoleon Bonaparte exhibit.
The dinosaur that ate Napoleon.
What was that treat? A trip off Broadway in Manhattan, Montana. No joke. There was a Broadway through the middle of town. We had heard about a legendary restaurant that would have the best steak we had ever tasted. As we went in and out of Manhattan, we began to wonder if we were heading in the right direction. However, it wasn’t too long before we came upon The Land of Magic.
Mickey Mouse has nothing on this Magic Kingdom.
What’s magical about it? A spell came over the me, and I made a 20 ounce ribeye (the smallest one they have) melt in my mouth and disappear in no time. It made my brother eat a piece of meat without covering it in Worcestershire Sauce. It made my youngest nephew put the ketchup away for a few bites. Simply, it was the best steak any of us have ever had.
SBI: A Thinning Crowd 
Sometimes the best restaurants I’ve found have been places along the road. I, too, would have been suspicious of the C’Mon Inn. Glad appearances were deceiving.
Now you’re in territory that I know. If you’re continuing west on 90, you’ll pass through my grandmother’s hometown of Wallace, Idaho (formerly the only stoplight on the 90 between Seattle & Boston). The panhandle of Idaho is like another country.
I spent some time in Wallce doing historical research at the Oasis Bordello Museum. It’s a great town.
That would have been some neat research. I assume that’s graduate work stuff. I have a BA in history (which qualifies me to work in 7-11s across the country), and have never done that kind of scholarship any place I couldn’t drive in a couple hours.
My grandma lived the first 12 years of her life in Wallace, and it wasn’t until years later that she even knew about the town’s more bawdy aspects!
It was graduate work. Most people choose a subject that is nearby. I chose one over 1,000 miles away.
I’m guessing they know their steaks in that part of the country. My mouth is watering just thinking about it. And I would have wanted to stay at the C’mon Inn just because of the name. Glad it wasn’t a fleabag place that rented by the hour. I’m puzzled too by why there would have been an exhibition on Napoleon, at the Museum of the Rockies, but what the heck.
It was an impressive exhibit on Napoleon but was something I didn’t expect to see.