A heightened sense of awarness

I was a tad harsh responding to that one fellows questions. You tend get a lot of well meaning cyclists asking about getting into this line of work because they think it's cool and it might be fun. It is believe me it is. The cool and fun come at a price that's what I was trying to get across. I've worked sick hung-over injured and while I was on the bike I was aware of everything around me I could almost sense whether the intersection ahead was clear and I felt good. I'd get off the bike say, to stop for some coffee. The good feeling stopped and the coffee shop could have been on fire and I still would have walked up the counter to and ordered. "May I have a cheese bagel with that and why is it so warm in here?" Now I've learned to rest the illnesses and injuries I don't rest the hangovers maybe it's some weird protestant guilt thing or maybe it's a desire to keep some standards. Today I'm sitting with my cat hoping an antagonized shoulder gets better before tomorrow. Today is Veterans Day,it's a day off for me. I can't help but think about what those guys and ladies have gone through in service to their country. I've talked to great many and in my own life not just as a messenger but prior has given me just the faintest ghost of a taste of that. The only thing I can say is simply. Thank you very much.

So you want to be an Anchorage Bike Messenger?

I got the following in an E-mail
"Hey man,
I was wondering how you got into being a bike messenger in Anchorage.
Need some help? I need a second career that can keep me biking all winter.
The commute just isn't enough."
I didn't answer because it's so terribly hard not to be sarcastic or just sound like an arrogant prick but fuck it. Where to start. I could start by pointing out that the difference between commuting and messenger work is rather like the difference between going down to the river with a brick of .22 long rifles to shoot tin cans and doing convoy escort duty in Iraq. As I ride I find my hand hovering over my front break lever, ready, I think it could be worse it could be the trigger of a belt fed machine gun. I imagine ones state of mind in both circumstances is rather similar. "See everything, admire nothing." The actions are different, the break lever is passive, the machine gun is aggressive but both are defensive, the goals are the same, come home alive. The guy working the belt-fed knows hes at war, you have to figure it out as your enemy is more incompetent then hostile not that there are not hostile nasty hating motherfuckers who will kill you given the chance. A commuter has a fixed amount of time to get where they need to go. A messenger is always in a hurry everything is a rush the more you carry the more you make. Then there are the serious rushes, where at a minimum, at the very least someones career is at stake but it could be a lot more but beyond that is your sense of honor because you said. "I can do it." or even "I'll try."
I could respond to the offer of help. I don't need help. I need partners. Committed partners, the sort with experience, who know what their getting into. I don't mean to be insulting, this is not a thing for the faint of heart, the weak of spirit. Bring in a few clients, no same day route service, I'm talking on demand service here, then we'll talk.
I could respond to this fellows need to ride all year. There's no nice way to say it. Sell your car and harden the fuck up. Get two or more bikes refuse to accept rides or take the bus. If your not riding, you're walking. Problem solved. That's how I lived my life from the start of the first gulf war until a sweet wonderful girl started louring me into her truck. I didn't want her to worry about me getting to where we were supposed to be together and more importantly I didn't want to be worrying about her while I rode.
Oh yeah, how did I get into being a bike messenger in Anchorage. I thought being a bike messenger would be cool. I lived in Anchorage, I didn't want to move. After two years of working door in Spenard it seamed like a good idea. Yeah it's cool, baby. Like smoking, it could kill you and it's hard to quit but it sure looks cool.

So, the snow has melted.

And I still have that song stuck in my head and I still feel old but that's life but I am young compared to my peers and I still remember the words spoken to me by a brother messenger in the city of Dublin, (I think he may have been Sumoi but I couldn't place the accent) after he had taken a header snagging on a post in the middle of the street when the Missus and I had asked if he was "Okay" it was one of those spills that was most likely nothing but it could have been something. "I am Messenger I know how to die but not today, not like this." Cheryl was puzzled but I just said to myself. "Well all righty then." because well, I am messenger and I know how to die and I ain't going down like that either. Like the kids say. Know what I'm saying. And if you don't know and can not empathize. FYI GFY. Oh yeah, this time I remembered the camera just forgot to take any pictures, whoops.

Well I danced

It was everything I expected it to be. It was beautiful for that moment, a moment that can happen on any working day, anywhere. That moment when you are all things, you are you, you are the bike, you are the traffic, you are the road, you are as zen mystic bullshit as it sounds you are at one with the universe. During that moment and through out the afternoon I had a song stuck in my head. I couldn't figure it out my first thought. "It's Tuesday?" Yes I had both versions going through my head alternating perhaps because on the ice, snow, hard-pack, slush or combinations there of, the song remains the same but the tempo and style alternate. I couldn't figure it out. After coming home I listened very carefully to the lyrics. This is pretty much a song about a fucked up relationship speculating on why the other party has no empathy. I'm still puzzled. The Loveliest Lady Lawyer in Anchorage is well, wonderful. Then it hit me. Stop thinking male female. Think fucked-up relationship where the other party has no empathy and is abusive. Oh, now I get it. That and I forgot to bring the dam camera.

Feeling old

I've been feeling a little old lately. Doing the sorts of things I used to do is harder, I need a good nights sleep. It takes longer to recover from injuries, I could go on. Then I ran into someone I went to High School with. Both of us doing middle-class married male Cost Co. escort duty. My wife later asked if he was older then me. I thought about for a second. "Actually he's about two-three years younger." It hit me that most men my age well, look my age. I still get carded from time to time, because to the nice young clerk/waiter/waitress/bartender I still fall under the "card everybody under thirty-five" rule. I've never had to seek treatment for E. D. guys, saddle adjustment is key. Anyway right now there's about two inches of new snow over about an inch or two of old snow and ice, more snow is falling. It's been a slow morning, this gave me the chance to put some more aggressive tires on the work bike. Riding a bike in these conditions can be a bit dangerous, just going from point A to B, not so much because the bike has problems but because the idiots you share the road with, do. Now, add in the fact that I will be going fast whether I need to or not. It's in my nature. I should be concerned, I should stay here with our cat for as long as I can get away with, I should think about catching a ride home after work with my lovely wife. No, fuck that. I must ride, I must frolic in the snow on the ice amongst the cars and the morons who drive them, I must stop at "The Messenger Bar", I must ride home after one more then I planned on, Now I must dance!

A twiter

The rain falls
The messenger rides
Cold and wet on the outside
Warm and toasty on the inside
warmed by your smile
While at home the cat naps

Highlights from CMWC Thursday

I had hoped to write this thing out stream of consciousness all Jack Kerouac style while the memories were still fresh in my head. Well shit happens, the memories are blurry. So, we hit the highlights with a photo play. Thursday had brunch, registered, purchased a six-pack of Steamwhistle went to Porno Steve's birthday party, got the chance to meet many wonderful messengers including the three Soumi messengers, shared some cinnamon flavored whiskey with Tofu but I missed the chance to say. "Happy Birthday" to Porno Steve. We took a cab back to the hotel and had a good nights sleep, a very good nights sleep indeed.