TOUR Day 4 - Tucson and Exhaustion
Things have been moving so fast for the past I have felt totally unable to process any thoughts at all. Right now I am sitting at a hipster bar in Phoenix. There’s a really hot girl at the counter with waist-length stick-straight black hair, and I wonder if I’m just as objectifying as all the men in the world for wanting to stare at her, so I’m actively trying not to. Phoenix is hot. At this restaurant, they have an outside option, but it’s like they can tell that people aren’t going to tolerate straight-up outside dining, so the entire outdoor area is being spritzed with water — which turns to steam before it hits the people. Everyone wins.
Last night we did my favorite Air Sex show ever, so far. It was a Monday night at a hotel slash restaurant slash bar slash club in Tucson, and four people turned out. Well, four people, plus us, plus the “most famous beard” guy we got to judge, plus the local comedian we booked to do a six-minute set. And the beard guy’s girlfriend. And the waitstaff. Ultimately, the show’s finalists consisted of a gung-ho Australian woman who came in costume and everything, two of the staff members, and a drunk guy from “the former Soviet Union” who had wandered in late. They were all good. The energy in the room was light-hearted and silly, and as I broke down the set I thought (without any irony whatsoever), “So this is my life. How amazing is that?”
Then we went up the stairs of this hotel slash restaurant slash bar slash club to go to sleep, because we thought it would be fun to stay at the venue. (Chris described it as “a special treat.”) Our room was built right above the venue, which meant the commute from break-down to my room was very, very short. Chris and Rob even stayed after to drink and dance at the club’s ‘90s-themed dance party, and for a while, I had the room to myself. Well, except that the ‘90s-themed dance party was all about the bass, and it was right below my bed. I could feel it thumping through my bed; the sound was so thick and all-encompassing that ear plugs did nothing to deter it. So no one slept. Like really: no one slept. I am really feeling that in my bones right now.
Then we drove, talking to a charming reporter the whole way; pulled into Phoenix to see Guardians of the Galaxy (I hope it’s not blasphemous for me to say it was just OK — nothing too special); then straight to the show; then straight to the next show. I am exhausted. I am exhausted.
But the show tonight was also exceptional: this one was sold out and full of women (hooray!) who were excited to compete; no one broke any of the rules (Air Sex has three rules that almost always get broken at least once per show: no actual ejaculation, no nudity, and you have to have invisible sex with something. [You’d think that last one would be a given, but an incredible amount of people think “Air Sex” just means “Dance In Front of People to Ginuwine.”])
Tomorrow we leave early for San Diego. I have nothing profound to say. I haven’t felt tired like this since Outdoor School in sixth grade — unable to sleep every night because THE BOYS’ CABIN WAS ONE CABIN OVER AND WHAT IF THEY SAW ME SLEEPING WHAT THEN. Of course, this time I’m sleeping in the same bed as three full-grown men who are over six feet tall. That detail is probably not relevant. Right now, I am so tired that “six feet tall” feels super important.