Tedium - Blaming the Messenger 🚴

Today in Tedium: Discrimination is, unfortunately, about as old as human civilization. Of the grotesque flavors of discrimination developed by humans over the millenia, employment discrimination is especially strange. Certain jobs that are clearly necessary for society to function, or at least jobs that people value, are worked by those society values least. Hard labor jobs, like ditch digging or working in commercial laundries, have often been performed by those viewed as having no other value, even if what they do is vital. Of course, little has changed in the 21st century. Society still venerates doctors and corporate executives while continuing to undervalue construction workers and cleaners. But there is a job that appeals to a certain type of person that craves freedom and unique experiences, though it is an endangered profession. Today’s Tedium is offering a sequel of sorts to our September piece on e-bike delivery drivers by looking at their artisanal colleagues that use leg power to deliver goods. Oh, and we get to check out one of the wildest competitions out there. Buckle up, you know, metaphorically anyways. — Andrew @ Tedium

Today’s GIF comes from the 1986 Kevin Bacon movie Quicksilver, a film about bike messengers in San Francisco. Here’s the trailer.

Clément Leroy, a champion cyclist from France who is also a professional public speaker and a psychologist, was one of the far-and-wide attendees who made it to the event. (Andrew Egan)

When competitions collide, NYC gets flooded with bike messengers from near and far

The Cycle Messenger World Championships (CMWC) are a competition that pits bike messengers against one another in what is basically a scavenger hunt that mimics the conditions of their job. The North American Cycle Courier Championships (NACCC) is basically the same competition but limited to messengers from the US, Canada and Mexico. And over Halloween weekend 2022, both events came to New York City.

The central activity surrounding the competitions are known to messengers as alleycats. Competitors are given itineraries, with a list of checkpoints and various deliveries (some marked standard, others as rush). Past iterations have included unique obstacles like designated bike thieves that would “steal” competitors’ bikes who didn’t lock them sufficiently, usually as a time saving tactic.

The 2022 edition took competitors to Red Hook to run a type of hybrid course. Depending on the city and level of cooperation with local officials, the race can feature a closed course that is unquestionably safer for riders but fails to mimic real world competition. The NYC-based organizers for CMWC 2022 opted for the Brooklyn neighborhood of Red Hook, where the limited traffic on a weekend provided a mix between an open and closed course with limited cooperation from city officials. In other words, the degree to which the event was officially sanctioned is up for debate.

The winners list. (Andrew Egan)

Such a free-wheeling attitude toward authority is pretty common in the bike messenger community. The New York Times noted in their 2016 article, “Messengers are known for a brash, adrenalized approach to their work, threading through traffic at dizzying speeds and often treating red lights as mere suggestions.” A messenger I spoke to put it a bit more succinctly, “At the end of the day, our jobs will never be automated because we’re paid to break the law.”

A selection of CMWC trophies. (Andrew Egan)

Just who, exactly, chooses this life?

Attending CMWC/NACCC had less to do with reporting on the results of the actual races than getting an opportunity to interview a broad swath of bike messengers from across the globe. And when they gathered at the East River Bar in Brooklyn the night before qualifiers, nearly half of them I approached told me to “Go f**k yourself” or some variation. Most of the ones that did agree to speak on the record did not want their real names used.

Many of them have good reasons. One veteran messenger, who’s been on the job for 12 years, has an uncertain immigration status and found the industry was one of the few where he could find employment. Though other options have come along, he’s grown to love the work, especially the freedom and flexibility. In fact, the day we met for our interview, he said he thought he was going to get fired that day. When I asked what he intended to do, he simply shrugged and said, “Go to another [messenger] service.” (He was not fired.)

The freedom and flexibility surrounding the job tends to attract a certain type of person. Clearly wary of outsiders, many in the community are close knit and rely on each for everything ranging from housing and jobs to repairs and healthcare. You can see elements of DIY punk everywhere in the industry. Another messenger who was involved in organizing CMWC/NACCC, but again, does not want his name used, said “I can go to Berlin and ask a messenger for a place to stay and a job and I’ll likely get it.” He did caution that the community isn’t a monolith and for all the cooperation, there can be a lot of infighting. I witnessed this first hand as local organizers (not the one mentioned above) butted heads with representatives of a larger organization over course specifics. The “discussion” quickly took a heated turn and ended with no clear resolution.

Messengers point out that while their profession has a vibrant and tight knit community, plenty of their colleagues avoid socializing outside of work. The community also tends to attract so-called “culture vultures,” i.e. people who have other, usually much more lucrative, jobs that hang around messengers and the bars/hang outs they frequent. Though, if a cyclist who competed at the Tour de France also wanted to take a shot at CMWC, more than a few messengers are open to the idea. Though, again, not all of them.

There is, perhaps unsurprisingly, some overlap between elite cyclists and bike messengers. Nelson Vails won a silver medal for the US at the 1984 Olympics, training after working as a NYC bike messenger. Yet when Vails retired from competitive cycling in the early 1990s, he did not return to bike messaging. He became a flight attendant, telling USA Cycling in a 2019 interview, “Working as a flight attendant is not a job, it’s a lifestyle.” While many bike messengers are elite cyclists, few elite cyclists have been bike messengers. The 2019 USA Cycling says that more cyclists find their way to the sport as a hobby.

And competition isn’t every bike messenger’s idea of a good time. Of the 232 messengers that registered for CMWC/NACC 2022, many said they only did so to support the competition. The real draw were the parties and getting to see old friends. Sonia Serba, a Toronto-based messenger, was attending to reconnect with old friends after leaving the industry. “But it pulled me back in,” she said. Shah Paul, a university employee (and former messenger) in Boston, agreed that many people were attending only for events surrounding the competition, such as Bike Kill, an art bike parade and gathering that is a big party every year.

Clément Leroy, a cyclist who is also a professional public speaker, was one of the far-and-wide attendees who made it to the event. (Andrew Egan)

Leaving the industry is often on the minds of messengers. Some find work as bike mechanics or other positions in bike shops. Other service industries are also popular choices when they hang up their bikes. A few of the bartenders at popular NYC bike messenger bars were former messengers. One left because they genuinely hated the work. Another quit only after getting hit by a car. The injuries and risks facing messengers, both on the job and off, are incredibly dangerous. The unnamed event organizer said, “I can’t even tell you how many people have died. Crushed by trucks or… yeah.” Another messenger added, “We used to die by getting hit by cars. Now, it’s ODs. Addiction runs rampant in the community.” The event organizer agreed, adding the issue causes more problems than just those they face on the road, “There’s a lot of messengers that are homeless.”

When I asked the 12-year industry veteran whether or not he had an endgame for leaving, he sighed and said, “Not to be edgy but death. I’m going to work this job until I die.”