I'd never been to Aerial on Broadway until last night for that Shoot the Mountain/How I Became the Bomb Show. Me and my lady friend went ahead and dressed up for Halloween, which is pretty cool because you spend the night looking for other people who also dressed up early and you make instant friends that way.
We started out with the idea of being Rock of Love contestants. This was mostly after every other idea fell flat at Performance Studios due to sheer whoritude of the costumes there—seriously, there was a silver "dress" that was for a galaxy space goddess that was really a tank top. I know the joke's been made a thousand times—Halloween is just an excuse for women to dress up like whores—but why bother whoring up otherwise non-whore costumes? Why bother being a sexy nurse when you can just be a big-haired metal whore?
Anyway. Costume assembled, and I ended up realizing I looked like I was in Vixen, Heart or a White Snake video. Which only meant one thing: I looked like David Coverdale's little sister.
Side note: It's actually a fairly funny little sociological experiment. Certain kinds of whores draw certain dudes' attention. If you're hanging out with people under 27, they get the kitschy ironic value of the metal whore. If you're hanging out around dudes over 35, they have a genuine leftover fondness for the whole aesthetic. Pretty gross-tastic.
But back to Aerial. If you've seen one rooftop bar, you've seen them all. They begin to be distinguishable only by the little things—the amenities. It didn't seem all that plush but I suppose my last rooftop party experience was the Icon. Aerial had a friendly staff, the drinks came pretty quickly and the place was well heated on a frosty October night.
But after a couple of hours, the small space kinda closed in on me and I felt like I'd been there all damn night long. I had to bolt. Plus, the bathrooms are unisex and the last thing I need are your dude pubes grossing up my constitution.
I did see a little bit of Shoot the Mountain, who were really good. But the enormous hair made me want to have a better time than apparently every single other person around me. People just stood there and watched the bands like they always do. Like it wasn't even the night before Halloween. Like there weren't two big-haired whores right next to them. What's wrong with this town?