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MANIFEST

Road Kill, Issue #3, June 1995

Kicked In the Nuts

It happened in the garment district. I delivered an envelope to a-bigclient. The security guard on the ninth floor looks at it, then writesin his logbook, ignoring my delivery manifest sitting on his desk nextto the envelope. I waited and watched to see if there was anything he neededfrom me (like my name or my messenger service). But no, he entered whothe envelope came from and who it was addressed to, and, after what seemedlike forever, signed my manifest.

Ordinarily I can deal with this kind of behavior, but I had other rushesin my bag, plus I had dealt with this guy before, and he'd always pulledthe same stunt.

Since he made me wait around for no apparent reason, I felt I shouldsay something. When I got to the elevator I turned back and said, "Youhad to take an I.Q. test to get this job?" The security guard jumpsup from his desk (the guy is twice my size), sprints down the hallway,and gets right in my face to ask me, "What did you say?' (The guynow looks like he's three times my size) "You had to take an IQ. testto get this job? I repeat.

The muscle head shoves me. I shove back. He punches me. I punch himback. And then we fall to the floor, rolling around like we're with theWorld Wrestling Federation. All the office workers come out from theircubicles to gawk at us, but no one breaks up the fight (they probably thinkI'm some psycho).

The brawl finally ends when the security guard kicks me in the nuts.Stunned and in a great deal of pain, I was then thrown out by the guard(who ripped my gortex jacket) and banned from ever returning.

To add insult to injury, my company blamed me for starting the fight,and I ended up losing out on runs because I was branded a ‘hot head. Butvictory is mine. I stole the client when I moved to another company. HotHead

Working for a Quarter

I cross Park and head down the hill on 40th, bunnyhopping from the streetto the sidewalk to the street, just playing around. I bunnyhop past a guyin a suit. As I'm about to lock up at Lexington, the guy comes up to meand says, You better work hard for that quarter. What did you say? Youbetter work hard for that quarter.

Listen man, I'm having a good day, don't give me any shit. But he getsall loud trying to embarrass me. I get pissed. And when you're a messenger,you get really pissed. He’s about twenty feet away from me, repeating,"You better work hard for that quarter.

So I get on my bike and pop a wheelie, knocking him in the chest withmy front tire. I yell at him while he’s lying on the ground, Now sue mefor a quarter. The guy is screaming for the cops, so I book around thecorner and drop off my package later. The moral of the story: If you'regonna talk shit, be prepared to take the consequences.

- Mad Max

Working Man's Redemption

You've got me blocked son; from day to day outcome and income. Causein I come... Roaring through plastic wastelands void of all but wastedheads. Provocateur of ill content (my pen bleeds) I am not. The creatorof discontent among the so-called melting pot is you. The one frontingon the run, but barely a crawl at all. Cold sleeping while on your feetsquare in my street. So this do-or-die, from Bed Stuy bike riding guy isgonna put your ass to sleep. "Boo!" Lights out.

- Radix, Vitesse Couriers

To Protect and To Serve

Of all the lousy drivers on the road, cops might just be the most dangerous.Cop cars crash almost ten times more often than civilian cars in NYC, accordingto police statistics. On-duty NYPD cars had 3,343 accidents in 1993 ninea day. One out of every 57 vehicles in a NYC motor vehicle accident wasa cop car. Police cars account for only one out of every 542 miles drivenin the city. Per mile driven, police cars crash 9 1/2 times as often asother motor vehicles.

Is it too much sugar in t he jelly donuts? Is police work that dangerous?Or is it because cops have such bad hangovers from those wild out of townparties?

If a police car almost runs you down, however, it isn't wise to complain.You could end up dead. In May 1991, Haitian-born Grady Aiexis was strollingin Greenwich Village when two jeeps veered around a corner, missing himby inches. When Grady talked back to the drivers, one of them, an off-dutycop and a trained boxer, slugged him. Grady struck his head on the pavementand died in the street as both drivers drove off. The cop, facing publicoutrage, resigned from the force but was never charged.

After several police officers crashed and died on duty last fall, chiefBratton ordered all officers to wear seat belts and get driver training.Bratton dangled these incentives: every cop who goes 3 years with no crashesgets a discount on his car insurance; precincts with the fewest accidentsget new Radio Motor Patrol cars.

Spring fever

Tearing through the streets like flailing birds of prey on the hunt,hounding for tiny packaged morsels of corporate paperwork and secretarialsigned, cum stained copies of projects, projects, projects, teaming downlanes swamped with tiny-minded mites with poor motor skills, literallyWAKING UP their sorry Pabst-soaked, tobacco-stained, inbred existencesto the cosmic wheel- shod genius that is the BIKE MESSENGER.

Sunny day and I've got to GO, got to fly through the downtown airstriplike a demon, light speed destiny on a hot day, papers and packages gettingtossed in silly secretary's manicured hands, elevator confrontations withoverweight flirtatious office queens and stupid self-important yuppie scum-shitswith big power ties and small dicks.

But it's a living. It's actually kind of nice, when it's not pouringdown sweaty streams of cold, cold rain and tiny hail explosions. Todayis grand, though, so wonderfully warm and sweet breeze-blowing good thatI'm tickled by it. Beautiful pieces of flesh float by. Life-giving rocketsin a sheath loving every caressing breeze and sideway glance on a fertilespring afternoon. Baby's got it goin' on, born-anew like the butterfly,magnificent buried treasures dug-up and displayed for all the universeto behold, like Sun-stroked gold glittering in the sand or in a lusty pirate'seye. Thank God for spring!

- from The Bike Messenger Manifesto

Special Thanks to Anne Gant and Charlie Kormanoff

If you have comments or suggestions, email me at messvilleto@yahoo.com