sudden, everything I learned came together 
for me, all the traffic patterns and every- 
thing else. I had no objection to getting 
stoned on the job after that. 
Even without the stimulation of 
drugs, messengering is seldom boring. 
The city is constantly changing, and the 
people who live within it are always on 
the move. There is also an element of 
chance that determines the number of 
runs, the location of the pickups, and 
the routes to the deliveries. Riding itself 
provides a constant thrill. Greg, a thir- 
ty-year-old actor trained at the Juilliard 
School, loves the speed: 
I can get up to forty-five miles per hour 
down Second Avenue. It's a very pure feel- 
ing, getting into the groove of riding, where 
you know that you're on the road keeping 
pace with all these big machines that can 
kill you. All you have on your side are your 
ears — it’s a very aural job, because you hear 
what’s happening behind you. And you just 
know because of your speed and your skill, 
you can keep up with the cars and cabs and 
buses and get there faster than anybody. 
That’s great. That’s satisfying. 
Messengers who live outside Man- 
hattan often cycle to and from work 
each day. Most of them enjoy riding. 
As one puts it, “It sure beats working 
for a living.” Another, David, is nearly 
effusive: 
On a good day, you know, there are actually 
limes when I almost whistle while I’m 
working. I'm so pleased with it, I'll say to 
myself, "You know, I’m riding around 
town. 1 can't believe they’re actually paying 
me to do this. I’m getting exercise, the sun’s 
out, and there are people sitting inside of- 
fices wishing they were outside.” 
The experience of joy from work 
contrasts sharply with the deadening 
quality of most work in our society. 
Perhaps it comes from experiencing the 
world directly, rather than through an 
office window 1 or a car windshield. As 
Joe explains: 
You get to greet the morning There are all 
these different angles of life. I mean, the 
city’s beautiful. You watch it change. It’s a 
question of stone canyons. The light plays 
on them, and it’s different light all day. You 
know there’s a real connection with being 
David writes up delivery tickets 
before setting out on his bicycle. 
With a Ph.D. in political science, he 
is one of many people with academic 
backgrounds who take delight in the 
simple tasks of "messengering. ” 
alive, especially when you’re coming out of 
the offices. 
Messengers have a sense of superior- 
ity over most people they come in con- 
tact with, particularly office personnel: 
You get a lot of secret envy, you know. They 
think you’re a little crazy in bad weather, 
but you’re free at the same time because you 
can stop and get off any time you want. A 
lot of times you're getting treated very poor- 
ly by someone, but in the back of your mind, 
you know you’re making more money than 
they are. And you're probably happier in 
what you're doing than they are. 
Long-term messengers are seldom 
lacking in other skills. They tend to be 
opt-outs rather than dropouts. Among 
them are Ph.D.’s and professionals, 
such as social workers, writers, and 
musicians. 1 hey are often people who 
are seeking other than nine-to-five jobs 
or are unable to fit the regimen of pro- 
fessions for which they trained. They 
have in common an uncertain future 
and often a past in which failure figured 
more prominently than success. For the 
latter group in particular, riding has be- 
come an important source of pride. Ini- 
tially bitter and angry at not having 
achieved success in their careers, they 
find relief in the physical aspects of 
messengering. Cycling whips bodies 
into shape. "It has a sort of narcotic ef- 
fect too,” Hank explained. "It drains 
away inner anger and frustration. It’s 
very hard to be angry when you’re 
physically exhausted.” 
Messengering also offers an opportu- 
nity to complete a job: "One thing 
about physical work — it’s real." Those 
who turned to messengering from aca- 
demic work experience particular de- 
