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Bike
messengers misunderstood
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By John Sherry
The Eagle, January 22, 2001
It is 30 degrees, sunny, cold and blustery. It is the kind of day where
the leaves that remain on the trees are torn from their branches, and
people hide under their overcoats and earmuffs. For D.C.'s bike
messengers the wind and cold weather are quite fitting considering the
way they see themselves perceived around the city.
Along K-street in D.C.'s business district workers flock from the
Farragut North Metro Station to their warm offices to spend the
remainder of the day. They might make another trip outdoors to grab
some lunch at one of the express marts before rushing back to their
offices.
Sitting in the shadow of the statue of the 19th Century navy hero John
Farragut, D.C.'s bike messengers make their office at the Farragut
Square Park. They sit along the benches as passerbys gawk confusedly at
the loud, raucous, and seemingly belligerent banter that goes on
between the assembled mass of messengers.
"We the pimpdaddies because we work in the city that makes the laws,"
says Wingmaster, a 17-year veteran who serves as an independent
contractor for Bega Bike Services.
The messengers are a ragtag bunch to be sure. Their ensembles mirror
the remnants of charity clothing drive with stained windbreakers,
oversized coats and greasy dreadlocks, however, they roam through the
halls of Congress and the other corridors of power in Washington, D.C.
Bikes are the fastest way to get around the District and companies use
bike messengers to get important documents across town that must be
delivered as soon possible.
In 1999, 411 professional bicycle couriers delivered over 3 million
packages to D.C. businesses. Combined the couriers rode over 5 million
miles in the downtown area, according to Shawn Bega, president of the
D.C. Bike Courier Association.
Ian Miller, a Capitol Hill journalist and former bike messenger in
Pittsburgh, Pa., tested this theory and found a bike ride between his
home in Adam's Morgan to the Rayburn House Office Building was 17
minutes shorter than driving. The entire trek took Ian 19 and a half
minutes to complete the 4.1 miles.
These four hundred and eleven bicycle couriers rode over 5 million
miles in downtown Washington, D.C. last year.
Of course 4.1 miles is small change compared to what most couriers
travel in one day. Wingmaster and his partner Rico (their street
names), who also rides for Bega, say they ride 35 to 50 miles around
the city everyday from Capitol Hill to K-Street.
In their travels couriers must look for hazards such as traffic and
pedestrians, which they consider to be more problematic for D.C.'s
traffic patterns than themselves.
"People complain about bike messengers," Ricothings warmer in the
wintertime. Their one drawback to the city is the metal detectors.
"If you walk into a building and put your bag on the metal detector and
the police see a bowl in there, the police will be like “you're under
arrest for paraphernalia,'" Wingmaster said. "And then they are going
to search, and you had better hope that you don't have any weed in
there."
Stories like Wingmaster's don't really help the bike messengers' public
appearance. The messengers say they know people think that they are
drug addicts, alcoholics, arrogant, and ignorant. In fact, when
approached the messengers show supreme caution, refusing to shake hands
and figuring any sort of inquisitor must be police.
While Wingmaster is talking, Rico slips into his bag and pulls out a
whiskey bottle tucked away in a wrinkled, brown paper bag. It is 11:00
a.m., and they have already started drinking for the day.
The other riders begin to crowd around and listen to Wingmaster, who
one rider considers the sensei of D.C. bike messaging. Others chime in
with their stories about lawyers or other clients before riding off for
their next delivery.
Messengers can make up to $4 commission from a delivery, which
pressures them to deliver as many packages as possible in a day because
most of the riders do this as a fulltime profession, Wingmaster says.
Those that don't are what Wingmaster considers the prima donna bike
racers, who work in the winter to stay in shape and leave in the spring
for the racing circuits.
"There is one right there," Wingmaster barks out, pointing at a tidy
messenger in a leotard speed suit. The messenger ignores Wingmaster,
and stands patiently waiting for his next page.
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