A few years ago, we were driving around in Reno, Nevada, USA, on Saint Patrick's Day.  It was late in the evening, and the whole town was celebrating, whooping it up, and generally getting bombed.   This was odd, because most of the locals had never been anywhere near Ireland, but I guess it was the thought that counts!  As we drove across the old bridge over the Truckee River, a lady, who was obviously drunk, was guiding her guy along, and he was even more drunk.   "No," she screamed, "You cannot jump in the river!"

"Yes, I can," was his reply, and he made an effort to do so, climbing up on the stone railing.  Fearlessly, she tackled him and dragged him down, both landing heavily on the sidewalk.  There they embraced each other, and giggled.  We slowed down, fearful that they might run in front of us.  Then they got up, and she started to jump into the river, and he tackled her, and they were down again, still giggling...

I couldn't take any more - we drove off.  I didn't want to know what was going to happen next, particularly since the police patrol, riding bicycles, was coming up behind them.

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, the old west still lives!  But it's not exactly what it once was - whatever it is now.