Last week I was working from a site in Southern Indiana. The customer opted to order out to a local sandwich joint for lunch. When the food arrived, we stopped working and broke out our little styrofoam boxes. I ordered a club sandwich. It came with a pickle spear and a small bag of Lay’s Classic.
One of the guys I was working with was particularly impressed that I was from Montana. He said he’d never met anyone from there before. As we were eating, he nods at my sandwich and says, “You probably don’t get a lot of these in Montana, do you?”
I look at my sandwich, then at him. I make a gesture with it and say, “A lot of these?”
He nods. “Yeah, what do you guys eat up there?”
I frown, glancing again at my sandwich to see if there is something special I’ve missed, then look at him again, puzzled.
“I mean, is there anything food-wise you’re particularly known for?”
I just shrug and say, “Well, pretty much anything we can run off a cliff first we’ll eat.”
That generated a decent laugh (and it’s a line I’ve used before in jest) but I was still surprised. Of all the weird ideas people have had about Montana, beyond simply not knowing where it is, this was the first food-related episode I’ve encountered. They also asked how far I had to travel to get to an airport, something I’m asked quite often. This time I answered that it depended on the season, since in winter I must get there by dogsled, canoe in the spring runoff, horseback in the summer, etc.