This morning, the New York Post got into the business of tracking the overweight, “chunky man jewelry”-sporting Sasquatch that’s been terrorizing the New York nightlife scene for nigh on three weeks now. “His assault on New York night life has made him a one-man stimulus package during the scene’s winter doldrums,” reports the paper, “and the city’s nocturnes are thrilled.” Who is this hulking behemoth of afterparties and “cocktails of vodka, cranberry juice and champagne”? Why, who else but Axl Rose?
Savvy New Yorkers will recall the day, back in February, when he and his entourage–er, “Guns N Roses”–terrorized the innocent patrons at a John Varvatos store, holding the room hostage till late into the evening and even the next morning, cranking out 17 long songs for an audience of Sebastian Bach and Kevin Bacon and their entourages. Next, the knives came out at the Gramercy Hotel’s Rose Bar, where Bach narrowly rescued Axl from death-by-switchblade by jumping on a banquet and screaming in terror until security showed up. Later, Rose addressed a rumor that he was walking around smelling like the last foul breath of a dying rhinoceros from his Twitter account: “I sweat nonsense: On ur mama! Really? That’s what u write about? No shit! I work hard, it’s good for ya n’ I smell better than u!!”
Finally, in the apotheosis of New York cool, Rose took to the living room of a regular person’s apartment, where he stayed until five in the morning. Now the Post has constructed a timeline for the rest of us, so that we may better understand the scale of the man’s movements. “For the last three weeks, the singer has been on an epic bender in New York,” wrote the NYP, “tearing through the city’s nightclubs and bars like he’s still the stick-thin 25-year-old who became a worldwide phenomenon after the release of his album “Appetite for Destruction.”
One of Rose’s guitarists, Richard Fortus, is in the process of getting started on an elaborate back tattoo at Graceland in Brooklyn, which will take some time to complete.
An elaborate back tattoo! Tell us more, the New York Post!
On Thursday, Feb. 18, he crashed three clubs: The Box, SoHo’s Goldbar and SL in the Meatpacking District. At the last venue, he expressed an interest in buying a house in the metropolitan area — possibly in Connecticut, an insider there said. He capped off that night at a private loft in NoHo, where he drank a $1,000 bottle of wine with members of the Black Eyed Peas.
Talking Connecticut real estate at four in the morning at a private loft in NoHo with will.i.am, popping bottles with the god! Baller status right there! When will it end?
So far, no one knows when the party — or his existential crisis — will end. As Rose prepared to leave one club, The Post cornered him and asked how late he generally stays out. Rose just smirked. “As long as it takes,” he said.
AS LONG AS IT TAKES TO LOCK DOWN THAT GREENWICH MANSION, SON! It is crazy out there! But even the Post, whose elaborate timeline of Rose’s activities over the last three weeks will surely be a valuable resource for historians looking to reconstruct the precise moment when New York took it to next level, never to return to the bad old days of not having Guns N Roses crash every party, ever, can’t keep track of the dude all the time:
SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 21:
* Standard Hotel, 848 Washington St.: Got his meatpacking district on. Woo!
* Greenhouse, 150 Varick St.: Kept the club going into the wee, wee hours of the morning.
MONDAY, FEBRUARY 22:
* We don’t know where he was but his 5 a.m. calls to Mike’s apartment, Juliet and Greenhouse yielded nothing.