NEW ORLEANS -- One still can find no shortage of wicked trouble on Bourbon Street, much of it involving Hurricane juice, beads, karaoke bars, strip joints, drag shows, zydeco music, Huge Ass Beers and the more-frequent-than-usual mugger. But nothing, not even Mardi Gras, ever has generated the joyful, thunderous noise exploding these days inside the mammoth, mushroom-shaped club on Poydras Street.Where once there were empty seats and brown-bag-headed fans in the Superdome, now there is nothing but bedlam and glee. You'd never have known on a rocking Monday night that this city remains devastated by crime, unemployment, homelessness, hopelessness and post-Katrina despair. At one point, when Drew Brees and the Saints were making Bill Belichick's defense look amateurish -- five more touchdown passes, MVP voters -- I looked around and tried to find one fan who wasn't standing, jumping and screaming.




