It's Friday night at the Maple Leaf Bar in New Orleans. The pressed-tin walls of the Victorian-era dime store are being rattled royally by dark men with strange armor and instruments on their chests. The sound of a chanky-chank locomotive—chugging, crooning and hissing steam—blasts through the building while the engineer—a king leading his knights on an unending quest for the perfect groove—shouts in a strange tongue. Dancers whirl in tight circles....