‘That street just T-shirts and tit bars, ’ says one local, and he’s not far off. Bourbon St, like the Vegas Strip and Cancun, is where the great id of the repressed American psyche is let loose into a seething mass of karaoke, strip clubs and (it seems) every bachelorette party ever. It’s sold as New Orleans squared; ironically, it’s actually negative New Orleans, a far cry from what the city truly is. Locals don’t tend to unleash their need for sin in such concentrated bursts; there is a grace to their debauchery (usually). But Bourbon St can be fun for a sliver of an evening, when you need to remind yourself that this is indeed what happens when buttoned-down mankind decides to chuck all the rules of acceptable behavior out the window and revert back to a Lord of the Flies –like stage of primal instinct.