At 8am I hit the Sweetgrass border crossing in north Montana. When asked if I had alcohol, tobacco or firearms I said I have a box of cigars and a box of bullets, but I'd sent my .44 magnum on ahead to a sporting goods store in Alaska...
"How many cigars do you have," she asked.
Determined to win her over with my affable charm I said with my best Bruce Willis smirk,"I left Colorado with a box of 30, but traffic was pretty bad around Yellowstone..."
Searching for any hint of a smile but finding none I knew this wasn't going well.
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