According to revelations, the end is nigh when a punk band rides in a limousine. But as Blink-182 glide down the 101 Freeway in Los Angeles in a black stretch limo, on their way to an appearance on MTV's Loveline, they have larger concerns than the strange locales to which their double-platinum album, Enema of the State, has taken them. "You know what's really embarrassing?" asks Mark Hoppus, the group's bassist. We convey our ignorance. "When you go to the emergency room and you have to convince the doctor that you slipped and fell on the G.I. Joe ? and explain why it was lubricated."

The other members, guitarist Tom DeLonge and drummer Travis Barker, nod sagely. If you speak with them individually, the three members of Blink-182 resemble Eagle Scouts more than rock stars: They're polite, industrious young men, full of entrepreneurial Web plans and testimonials to how much they love their girlfriends. But put them together and a strange transformation happens, like Bruce Banner turning into the Incredible Hulk. They run around with their clothes off. They write and perform irresistible pop-punk anthems like "What's My Age Again?" and "All the Small Things." They make lots of fart jokes. And if nobody else is around, they just perform for each other. They're the class clowns of the Top Forty, lobbing spitballs at the whole world.

Hoppus fishes around for his cell phone to call his girlfriend and realizes that he's missing his wallet. Or, more precisely, his wallets ? he carries two, one of which contains more than $1,000 in cash, and he's left them both at his record company's office. I ask Hoppus why he carries so much cash. Although he's genuinely distressed, he still needs to play to the crowd, even if it's just his band mates. "Dude," he says with a sly smile, "you ever try to buy $500 of heroin with a third-party out-of-state check?"