Welcome. Montana has a special place in my heart as it is the first time I got stumbling drunk. I was 14 years old and our group was staying the night in a youth hostel in Missuola run by Catholic nuns. Bacardi and Coke. Vaguely remember it well. We rode our bicycles from Colorado to Oregon that summer (1977) and this was the one night during the 6 weeks we tied one on.
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