ell, Paula Cole, all of the Cowboys have officially gone. I don't know where, but they're definitely not on 5th anymore; for now, at least. Essentially, they're on vacation. Roping and rustling (what is rustling?) takes a lot out of you; sometimes you need a break. Maybe they went fishing, Ledger style. Not to worry, they'll be back.

After over a decade, Paul Vickers's myriad-gallon Calgary tumbleweed institution (without the tumbleweeds) has closed. Like a black-lit hotel room, its shuttering sees a rush of admissions as Calgarians reminisce and nostalgically tip hats. A home for first legal drinks, not-so-furtive dry humps, Princely amorousness, and other celebrity dalliances, it has seen boots, brawls, and down-home falls aplenty.

As the drunk-talk Stampede evenings give way to this sober Cowboys post-mortem, shit-kickers need not fret. A new incarnation, complete with the boxed up and moved over fixings (including signage and memorabilia), will open down the street, at 425 5th Street SW, sometime in September. Until then, spend your night whiskey drunk on the range, practicing your moseying, roping, rustling, fishing, and Paula Cole covers. Or not. -S.T.