The Lusty Vegan: Air Sex–No Orgasm Required

Snagged this visual from blog.timesunion.com!

I’m a big fan of unique experiences, so when I first heard about the Air Sex World Championships last year, I was immediately excited. Air Sex is a “sport” similar to air guitar—each competitor gets on stage and simulates a sex act (or several) to a song of his or her choosing. They are then judged by a panel, American Idol style. If American Idol included massive amounts of dry humping and finger licking.

The competitions are held yearly throughout the country, and while I was devastated to have missed last year’s local events, I was determined not to miss out on the 2012 competition. I didn’t want to compete, mind you. I can’t even give public speeches, let alone pretend to fellate an invisible person in front of 250 people to Prince’s “Kiss.” But I did want to attend an event, and so I cyber-stalked the Air Sex host, comedian Chris Trew, via Twitter for 6 months until I secured a date and tickets to the NYC event. Recently, Trew got booted off America’s Got Talent with his Air Sex routine, which Howard Stern called “offensive.” Yes…you read that right. Howard Stern called something offensive.

Moving on. The Air Sex rules are that you can’t actually have an orgasm (how they regulate this one, not so sure), you have to keep your clothes on, and you have to pretend to be going at it with an imaginary person. You can’t just get up there and hump the mic stand for 2 ½ minutes to R. Kelly’s “Bump N Grind.” Stay classy, people!

That event was last night, and let me tell you folks, it was a fun time. It was held at Drom, a bar in the east village, and at first I was a bit cranky because it started a good hour and a half after it was supposed to. Considering it was a Thursday night and I had jury duty at 9 am the next morning, come 11:30 I was getting pretty antsy for some air action. But good things come to those who wait!

Before the show I had been under the impression that it was just that—a show. I thought all contestants were predetermined. Like usual, I was walking around with a false sense of reality. You sign up at the event! So part of the reason the event took so long to get going was because people were still signing up and fine tuning their performance. And by fine tuning, I mean knocking back shots of Jose. Liquid courage.

Just as the crowd was turning and angry shouts of “F*ck, F*ck, F*ck” filled the air, Trew took the stage and put on a stellar performance to “My Heart Will Go On.” I never thought I could want to have sex to that iconic Titanic tune. After seeing Trew’s performance, I know for sure I never want to have sex to that song. However, the build up was terrific, and it was funny to watch Trew’s tongue poke out of his foot long bush-beard like a naked baby bird poking his head out of its nest. Ew. No really, Trew is hilarious.

I think Trew's beard/sweat band combo is hot. You would too if you saw his skillful finger tricks. Ninja fingers!

There seemed to be more men willing to participate than women, which was surprising considering most women have already finessed their orgasm-faking skills. (Not me! I’m far too self involved to fake an orgasm.) Each contestant took on a stage name—like Madame Lavender or Fat Albert. One of the most memorable performances was from a lively woman wearing 80s spandex and knee pads who had dubbed herself Jam Out With Your Clam Out.

Some of the acts were more dance oriented, like the performance by Magic Michelle, a smokin’ hot “attorney” (stripper) whose incredible dance moves gave away her real career (stripper) and whose ass was completely unbelievable. (I’m not being rude when I call her a stripper. I hope she was a stripper; I want to know where she works so I can visit her and try to get her to come home with me and my boyfriend, who was enamored.)

While the performances were great, the energy in the place was even better. Everyone was up for a little air action. At one point, a creepy dude who resembled Weird Al and for some reason kept a bag of potato chips in his hat mock-orgasmed his beer, spraying foam all over the floor and the spectators in the first row. When one of Drom’s employees came to clean it up, the judges popped on some tunage and he gave us a little impromptu performance by making sweet–albeit slightly greasy–love to his mop.

At 1:30, intermission rolled around and I peaced out. Like I said, jury duty. Also my boyfriend may have been a bit excited by Magic Michelle’s unbelievable ass, and I had to get him home. SO unfortunately, I’m not sure who won last night’s competition. I know—worst blogger ever! I don’t know who won! Can you stand the suspense? To make up for it, here are some photos from the event.

Jam Out With Your Clam Out. Gross name. Awesome kneepads--which I managed not to get a picture of. Fail.

This guy was one of my favorites. He put on a "white trash" performance, complete with beer chugging and a comment about doing his cousin.

Have you been to an Air Sex show? Tell me about it! If you haven’t been but want to go, check their site for tour dates, or at least YouTube last year’s winner, Slut Truffle. She uses a chainsaw to bust through her chastity belt on stage.

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The Lusty Vegan is a lifestyle and sex column focusing on living and loving as a twenty-something year old vegan. More rants from Zoe Eisenberg can be found at www.sexytofu.com. Follow her on Twitter @Sexytofublog