Sunday, June 28, 2009

The 2009 Los Angeles AirSex Championships

Friday 6/26/09
I left my last day at work feeling like I had to cut loose. I’d tried to get a few friends to come with me to a silly little event in EchoPark that I thought could be stupid fun. First, I invited a date from out of town. She couldn’t make it, though she thought the idea was tantalizing. Then I asked a local lady - "Your Honor". I’d dated "Your Honor" a while back and now we’ve become friends. Of course, this evening might have changed all that again as it had the potential to be so…charged. She canceled the day before because of work issues. And then I started inviting friends. Six friends were all having dinner together. They invited me along to their dinner, but I wanted to go this Echoplex event. They were all coupled, and so less in need of any external excitement. So I call one of my single buddies, The Clown, but he hates the crowds when you go out in LA (typical clown), so he tried to get me and bunch of people to come to his house. I ended up going there after the saga you're about to read)

Still I was determined. I told him I’d stop by afterwards, but this meant I was going all by my lonesome little self to the 2009 Los Angeles AirSex Championships.

What is air sex? I wasn’t quite sure, but I had an idea that it might be very amusing. What I didn’t know what that I was going to be performing that evening.

I’d read online that there were only a few more tickets available and when I arrived, I found a line of 50 people waiting to get in. I asked a big black guy standing next who was listening to his iPod to me if people already had tickets in this line. He said he didn’t think so and then when back to his conversation. Turned out he was on his iPhone, not iPod. Moreover, he was in an argument with his girlfriend. Once he was done he exclaimed, “Why do I have to explain why I’m at the Air Sex Championships without my girlfriend? Do we have to do everything together?”

So I wasn’t the only person there alone!

The line starts to move, but I’m still concerned I won’t get in, so I saw my chance when a guy with a big, bushy beard and a fishing hat walked down the line yelling out that he’s looking for two more performers and “You’ll get free admission and one free drink.” No one was volunteering. I couldn’t believe it. So I raised my hand and people started cheering.

I walked past the long line and Chris with the bushy beard asked what name I wanted to go by. “Dr. Winks” I said without thinking. It was my old college nickname. Then he asked what song did I want to perform to. I thought something in Michael Jackson’s memory would be good as he’d just passed on. I find ABC impossible to not dance to, so that’s what I requested.

As I walk in, I immediately call The Clown. This dude used to work for Cirque and make a living as a street performer, so I shake him down for suggestions. Immediately he tells me to do things you can’t physically do in real life. “Pick up the girl toss her around like basketball – whatever.” This has got me thinking creatively, but we go on in half an hour, so I don’t have much time to plan. I go to the bar and I get 2 drinks. A shot of Jack AND a Jack and ginger. The bartender’s cute. And friendly. I like this place. This is going to be a good night.

Three people who’d seen me volunteer wish me good luck. I stop them and ask for suggestions. I had no idea what to do. The guy had seen a few of the videos of other performances online so he gave me some ideas. He seemed he might be with the cute, short brunette, but both were a bit weird. He seemed stoned and was touching her at every chance he could get. She showed no affection in return, but didn’t ward him off either. She quickly suggested a change of music. Instead of ABC, I should do Dirty Diana. I agreed and found Chris to set that up.

I return and find they’d been brainstorming. The blond mentions she’s taking a break from men because she’d recently been “chowing down at the man buffet”. She wanted to see cunnilingus. Cunny showed me how to simulate it – putting my tongue in the crevice opposite to my elbow. She said she wanted a guy who’d be willing to just do that to her. She didn’t think they existed. I nearly volunteered, but needed to keep focus. The Brunette joked she wanted to see someone crying during sex. I said I thought rape might not help me win over the audience. She clarified saying she often cries during sex because her vagina is so small and it hurts after 15 minutes. I almost promise to finish quickly, but Stoner jumps in and slurs that he used to announce to everyone when they went out that she has a small vagina. It was her nickname. “Hey Small Vagina! Want a beer?” Personally, I’d go for something less clinical. More catchy, like ‘Tiny Snatch’. So that’s what I’ll be calling her, though she told me her real name and I’m convinced I’ve met her before.

She at the same time, thinks I look like “somebody”. Am I somebody. Now Cunny thinks I’m somebody too. I’ve been getting this a lot since I grew my funky facial hair – a beard with the chin shaved off, except for a little ‘flavor saver’ (a landing strip from the middle of my bottom lip in a neat skinny rectangle going to the bottom of my chin. Some teenagers in Ojai a few weeks ago were convinced I was Seth Rogen. Apparently he’s lost a lot of weight. Or I’ve gained some. I’m coy and say I am somebody. They think I’m famous. It’s a hoot. I tell them I just wrapped the TV show I was on an hour ago which is true, but after a few minutes of this I tell them the truth. I’m an avant garde opera composer who’s been trying to sell out as a TV writer and doing a damn poor job of it.

Stoner keeps coming up with random suggestions. Tiny Snatch wants to see me pull a pubic hair from my teeth. She also wants to know if I’m going to get naked. I say I think that’s not allowed, but we’re pretty sure I can get down to my underwear, so that’s one moment to hit. But how to get there. Then Tiny Snatch provides me the lyrics of Dirty Diana from her cell phone. Apparently she performed it the night before at Karaoke and downloaded all the lyrics right onto her phone. This is invaluable. I’d only remembered the chorus to the song. The verses actually spell out a full dramatic narrative with a man eater whom MJ tries to resist. I have my plot. I excuse myself to the bathroom and start working out a routine. A need a few ‘turns’ to make this work.

I try out the opening moments in the mirror. My character acts all Rico Suave and while strutting along, he’s stopped dead in his tracks when he sees a head turner. He looks at the audience to conspire with them and let them know he’s found a hottie. Then he glides on down to Diana introduces himself with a swagger and shakes her hand.

She turns the tables on him, grabs him into a full embrace, her on top, shoving her tongue down his throat.

Someone walks into the bathroom. That was embarrassing.

I lock myself in the handicap stall and continue working. After the kiss. I back off, shaking my head no. Indicating I want to take it slowly. But she backs me up against a wall and pins one arm against it. Then she pins the other arm back. And with terror in my eyes, I spy her descend to her knees and my hand goes on the back of her head the moment Michael cries out Dir-Ty Di- A - Na! OH!

I resist for the first few bars, then get into it, dancing and spinning around (we’ve left the realistic mime world for an expressionistic one at this point). After one rotation, I return completely enthusiastic, jamming her head on my jimmy like a B-Baller having a hot day on the court.

But the next verse starts up and we’ve gone back to pianissimo. The lyrics return to the reluctant MJ fighting off the succubus. I ‘tell’ Diana ‘Let’s just kiss.” A closed lips kiss and embrace starts out easily, but then a wandering hand of ‘hers’ winds its way down my chest until she grabs my belt and starts to undo it. Of course, it’s my own hand that’s doing this, but it reads surprising clearly that this is a foreign presence. I looked shocked that she’s undressing me. I beg her to stop, but she’s unbuttoned them, then unzipped them. Boom. My pants are at my knees. Thank God I wore good underwear that night by chance – grey Calvin Klein boxer briefs with a red waistband.

I barely got that far as people were coming in and out of the bathroom and I decided I needed to see if I had to go backstage, so the ending was only roughed out.

Indeed I missed the announcement to head back to the green room. I race in back and fin 9 other folks getting instructions from Chris which amount to “You can do anything except actually have sex.” Done.

A meet a cute girl dressed in drag. She looks like a real clown. Suit pants, white collar shirt, suspenders and her hair slicked back. She tells me she’s the co-host of a radio show “The Worst Show on the Web” and she had Chris on that week, and decided it might be a good story to do this herself.

They start up the show. There are about 200 people there. The entire front row is filled with me and women holding up cameras and shooting video. I wasn’t completely thinking when I signed up that my performance would be recorded and broadcast for the world to see. I had to be good.

A drunk girl goes first. She’s VERY drunk. They shouldn’t have let her go on. He main routine is bending over, exposing her near thong which was barely hanging on and pretending to be nailed from behind. Then she’d try to stand up. Stumble a bit. Smile at the audience and then bend over again to put her crack on display.

Chris interviewed her afterwards and made a snarky comment that performances like that could erode the little integrity the Air Sex Championships were clinging to.

Next was Mr. Cock-a-liscious. At this point. I was told I was on-deck. Mr. C was a lot better. He had a costume. Well a suit anyway. He seemed buttoned up, but then quickly ripped it off ‘til he was in this red colored bikini briefs humping the air a few inches of the ground like a jackhammer. In comparison to his predecessor, he was an Olympian, but I thought I could take him.

And suddenly I was up. I’d forgotten what a rush it can be to have a group of people excited for you to perform. I’ve only been on stage three nights in the last 5 years. I love the rush. There was no fear. I cue the guy with the music and…there’s almost no sound. I’d forgotten there’s a whole pianissimo musical intro before the lyrics kick in. I stand my ground trying to look cool and then begin the strut. The first time the chorus kicks in when she goes down on me, the crowd goes nuts. I’m loving this.

In the second verse, I get my pants down to my knees and don’t lose the underpants in the process (that seems like it could be a serious danger).

Now, I push her away. She wants me so bad, and she’s angered by my protestations, so she slaps me - once on the right cheek. Then on the left. I’m so infuriated, I slap her back. Right, then left. Then I grab her, kiss her. Turn her to the side so the audience has a good profile shot. I bend her over, lift up her skirt and as the second chorus of Dirty Diana lands, I start riding that pony!

And the audience went fucking insane.

After a while of slapping her ass and mugging to my fans, I stand her up, and lift her by the waist like a ballerina. Then I spread her legs and slowly lower her onto my face – thereby satisfying Cunny’s request and The Clown’s advice. I lift her up again, stick my finger inbetween her legs and start spinning her like a basksetball. There she goes round and round. I throw her up, she lands on my ‘aircock’, straddling me. A few poundings like that and I get her on her knees ready to lay on her the money shot. A little bit of self-stroking while she waits for it, then I let loose, the cheering bursts forth and I take my bow.

Now that’s a fucking show.

The next seven performers ranged from interesting to scary. “The Jackhammer” came on, lowered his pants, got on his knees and pretended to slam someone from behind as hard and fast as he could until he finally came. No variation. One position. No build, just pound pound pound. And he never took off his sunglasses.

Mr. Amy – the radio host played a man masturbating to a gay skinmag with an Urkle doll as further stimulation. That was rehearsed and amusing, but disturbingly perverse.

Miss Peaches, with flailing golden locks that made her performance, gave an enthusiastic blowjob to an AirPhallus the size of a orange construction cone if her miming was any indication of size. Tiny Snatch would have had a seizure were she forced on that.

Then her boyfriend a ripped, bald 6’4” yogi took the stage and gave a vein-popping tantric reaming that I believe would have left Miss Peaches unable to walk for a week.

Not to be undone, the Shanghai Slinger wrapped up the evening by jumping from a table onto his virtual sexual victim pro wrestler style.

We took a break as the judges conferred to bring the top 3 into a improvised competition to a song of their choosing.

The threesome who advised me congratulated me on the performance. They were most impressed, but Tiny Snatch was disappointed I’d forgotten to include the removing the pubic hair from my teeth. I apologized and promised if I was brought back as a finalist I’d repair that omission.

A bunch of drunk dudes came up to me and went on about how amazing my performance was and how I was definitely going to win.

A woman named Diana came up to me and thanked me for doing a song for her namesake. Shoulda gotten her number I think.

Then another threesome (also 2 women and 1 guy) accosted me just to compliment me more. They were really wowed by the show. They said I could get laid by any woman there. My pick. I didn’t quite believe that, but it was kind of them to say. They got a picture of me, so one became a Facebook friend and I downloaded the pic. Here it is.

Later I found someone posted a video of it on YouTube. You can see the whole 2:31 performance at the link at the bottom of this entry.

I was pretty thrilled with the response and began growing concerned about coming up with a new AirSex routine on the spot.

My new fans were telling me they wanted even more foreplay. They wanted taking off of a bra. They wanted fondling of the breasts. Neither had been seen so far. I promised them foreplay and began coming up with some routines to play with. I was pretty confident I’d make the finals.

And then they announced the 3 finalists and…my name was not called. It was like middle school all over again. I’d been crushed in middle school when I was selected for the special homeroom with the kids who had special musical talents and then I was crushed when the director, Don Rickenback, announced the cast for the school’s musical Guys and Dolls over the PA. He did that because he also announced the busses. Almost everyone in my class was announced. I kept waiting to hear my name and then…Buss 33. Your bus is at the platform. I spent the next 4 years proving to Don that he should have chosen ME.

Just imagine what I’ll do to prove the judges wrong on this performance.

Maybe I’ll just have to do an entire AirSex show. Perhaps a solo show. Perhaps I need a female co-star for variation. But one thing’s for sure. It’ll make my ‘avant musical’ Warning!: eXplicit Material look like a Victorian opera.

And now…Here it is…the show you’ve been waiting for…the full video of my Dirty Diana routine!!!:


  1. I have gained a mcuh higher respect for you than I have ever thought possible... And that scares the CRAP outa me!

  2. Thanks Samwise. You rock it on out yourself.