The name of the place is Brogan Bail Bonds. It occupies a ground-level storefront in a five-story brick building that’s almost lost amid the cheesy stroboscopic pandemonium of the street. Glaring neon signs and flashing laser adverts illuminate nearly every window of every building; some reach right over the street. Adstands along the curbs add their thumping, echoing, electronic syncopated soundtracks to the rhythmic humming and rumbling of passing traffic and the chaotic shouts, cries, and wails of two-legs pouring along the walkways.