Ladies and Gentlemen, I am now the third-greatest air guitarist in the history of the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill.

The greatest air guitarest ever to come from UNC was once the World Air Guitar Champion (Also, yes there is such a thing as the World Air Guitar Championships), and the second-greatest air guitarist in the history of UNC is a dude who had not one, but two mohawks on his head.

What allows me to make such a lofty claim, you ask?

Well, last Tuesday was the Fourth-Annual UNC Air Guitar Competition, and guess what? I won it!

Air Guitar and I have a long, sometimes-tempestuous history involving failed dreams, famous authors, road trips and nudity (okay, no nudity).

But I am a relatively seasoned veteran of the Air Guitar circuit, having competed in competitions held in Washington, DC, and London, in addition to the three that I’ve done in Chapel Hill.

Before Tuesday, however, I had always been a bridesmaid, never an Air Guitar Champion.

My competition was stiff, nine of UNC’s finest Air Guitarists all zoning in on me for the kill, some competitors plucked from the streets literally minutes before the competition’s inception.

I began my routine the way any good air guitarist does – by taking off my shirt and revealing the word “DOGS!” written on my chest in permanent marker.

I then proceeded to rock so hard that I threw up.

I didn’t mistype that. I pretended to play guitar so vehemently that I actually ended up vomiting between rounds, but that wasn’t because of some sweet Rock And Roll Air Drug I’d taken earlier. Instead I had eaten a bunch of soup before the competition and my stomach wasn’t thrilled with how much I had moved.

How utterly rock and droll.

In the second round, I was too tired to run around anymore, so I played the entirety of my air song on my back, using my legs to scoot myself around the stage, doing some sort of weird on-the-ground flip just in time to mount myself for the final crescendo of rock. Somebody out there liked it, I guess.