The sirens of Bourbon Street stand in front of the female impersonators club, cooing softly to the passersby, coaxing them to "step in a minute, honey" for a cool drink and a show.

A quick glance, which is all they usually get, could fool even the locals. The sirens are equipped. They know what to work, and how to work it.

A double take, though, indicates a sure thing. The interest is piqued, a hand is taken, and the sap is lured into the depths, mesmerized by the purple haze and flashing lights.