The timeless ruse perpetrated on hapless tourists and other squares on Bourbon Street goes something like this:

Huckster: Pardon me sir, but I'd like to bet you $5 that I can tell you where and when you got your shoes.

Mark/Chump: Really? I doubt you'd know such arcane trivia about me, especially since you weren't even there. I'll take your bet.

Huckster: Okay, you got your shoes on Bourbon Street, and it's (today's date and the current time). Now pay up!

See the humor? Oh well. Nowadays, I can hardly imagine such a coherent exchange occurring on Bourbon Street, since it it is usually packed with drunk, whooping, vomiting frat boys and thugs who would rather just stab you for the five bucks. Come to think of it, the stabbing doesn't sound as bad by comparison.

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