“We Love Trouble!”

“I’m not sure we chose a good day to do this,” Simple Plan’s lead guitarist Jeff Stinco says, introducing himself to Blender in the foyer of a New York hotel. “There is some…roughness around.”Blender has been dreading just such a scenario. Offered the chance to spend $848 of the magazine’s cash any way they see fit, the Montreal pop-punkers have decided to rent an open-top double-decker bus to cruise around New York, see the sights in style and pick up some passengers along the way. It’s a good idea.

Or is it? Our trip is due to start in just a few minutes’ time, at the decidedly un-rock & roll hour of 9 A.M. To make matters worse, the 26-year-old Stinco informs Blender that the band went to see former tourmates Green Day perform last night, then headed off to an after-show party which didn’t wind down until 4 A.M.

So it doesn’t come as a huge surprise when, after Blender asks the newly arrived sunglasses-clad singer Pierre Bouvier, 25, if he’s OK, the frontman utters an abrupt “No!” before stumbling off in search of the nearest McDonald’s.

Mercifully, bassist David Desrosiers, 24, soon joins the group and explains that he, at least, is relatively compos mentis.

“I only had one drink last night,” he says. “You want to know how un-rock & roll I am? I haven’t been drunk since March. I like bubble teas — milky tea with tapioca balls. We were doing that Mary-Kate and Ashley movie and I sent for one. I was like, ‘Hey, twins, suck my balls!’”

The movie in question was this year’s New York Minute, the plot of which found Mary-Kate Olsen playing hooky from school to attend a Simple Plan video shoot. This kind of exposure, combined with the pop sheen that sugarcoated the gently angsty lyrics of their 2002 debut, No Pads, No Helmets…Just Balls, resulted in over one million sales. Their new CD, Still Not Getting Any…, was produced by legendary knob-twiddler Bob Rock, who’s previously spurred the likes of Metallica and Mötley Crüe onto superstardom. The smart money is on Simple Plan following suit.

“This is different from when our first album came out,” Stinco says, marveling at the interest now being shown. “That was, like, ‘OK, we’re ready to do some interviews.’ But no one was interested.”

With the return of Bouvier and the arrival of drummer Chuck Comeau, 25, and guitarist Sebastien Lefebvre, 23, we walk across the street. There, we find both the bus and a driver amiable enough to let Stinco get in behind the wheel — at least while the double-decker is stationary.

“New York is nuts. I love this place!” Stinco says after we have taken our seats upstairs and the bus has rumbled out into the traffic. “It’s like Montreal times a hundred! But Montreal strip joints are the best in the world. They’re cheap, and everything goes. And the women are beautiful. The men, too, so I heard. Isn’t that right, Chuck?"

“Yeah,” Comeau deadpans. The others hoot with laughter.

Simple Plan have the kind of relaxed rapport you might expect from people who, with the exception of Desrosiers, have known each other since high school. But, while Comeau is happy enough to take his share of ribbing, it’s clear the drummer is one of the band’s leaders. More obviously serious than his bandmates, he also helps write the songs with Bouvier, and is first off the mark when Blender asks what the title of their new album refers to.

“It means we’re still not getting good reviews,” he grumbles good-naturedly.

We assumed it meant you still weren’t getting any sex.

“There’s that, too,” an increasingly alive-looking Bouvier says.

As we turn onto Broadway, Stinco grabs a megaphone and tries to tempt people onto the bus. At first, his efforts are in vain, but then he gets the attention of the Naked Cowboy, a Times Square institution who plays guitar in nothing but a cowboy hat, boots and tighty-whiteys.

Within seconds, Mr. Cowboy has bounded onto the bus and launched into an impromptu song with lyrics that consist solely of “I’m the Naked Cowboy!/ Here with Simple Plan!” For an encore, he launches an enthusiastic endorsement of self-help guru Tony Robbins, who inspired him, for reasons never made clear, to become the Naked Cowboy in the first place.

Two blocks on, we encounter a street corner full of people extolling the benefits of Energizer batteries, one of whom is dressed as the famously relentless bunny. Stinco immediately launches a megaphone-enhanced spiel: “Hey, Mr. Bunny! Energize us! We’re doing a Blender shoot! We need some loving!” Sadly, the Bunny proves too wide to fit through the bus door, but most of his associates make the journey, as do several confused but happy Japanese vacationers and a camera crew, which has magically appeared.

Meanwhile, the band head downstairs to pose for tourists with the Bunny and the Cowboy, who’s now singing an oddly familiar ditty: “I’m the Naked Cowboy!/Here with the Energizer Bunny!” By now, the general mêlée on and off the bus has stalled traffic in all directions.

“We love trouble,” Bouvier says. “We just don’t normally get into it this early.”

Eventually, we are forced to set off again without any of our new friends. The band alternate between pointing out New York landmarks and relaying tales of rock & roll excess passed on to them by Bob Rock.

“There was the ‘Why wait’ story,” Stinco says. “One night, Mötley Crüe were having dinner and, at that point, everybody had stopped drinking. But they decide to have one glass of wine. As soon as Nikki Sixx takes a sip, one of the other guys is on the phone calling the pusher getting the drugs. When they asked him what he was doing, he was like, ‘Why wait? Why wait? Let’s just go.’ Ha!”

Suddenly the guitarist points down at the sidewalk: “Look, someone selling watches out of a suitcase!”Indeed there is, and a very shady-looking fellow he is, too. Regardless, Stinco demands that the bus stops. He jumps off and is soon in deep haggling mode.

“I’ll give you 10 bucks for that Rolex.”

“Thirty.”

“It’s a fake.”

“Yeah, but it’s a good fake.”

In the end, Stinco exchanges the last $20 of Blender’s cash on the fake, ominously ticking “Rolex.” He then returns to our ride only to be braced by an old lady who’s wandered onto the bus and wants to know where it’s going.

“It’s going wherever you want to go,” he replies. This is enough to have her scuttling back to the sidewalk and, with no other likely takers in sight, we reluctantly head back to the hotel.

“We learned a lot today from the Naked Cowboy about shameless promotion,” says Stinco. “It’s time I started playing the guitar naked. We need more gay guys at our shows — and that could be the way to do it!”