Start with the facts: Benefits of messengers Are messengers reckless? When is a license just another label? What is the disguised name for employee? Messenger Appreciation Messenger Memorial The IFBMA
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Living life in the fast lane Couriers risk their necks in our downtown traffic in pursuit of fun and (a little) profit Houston Chronicle, June 23, 2005 By Robert Crowe Andrew Medina Jr. pulls up his left sleeve and shows off the shoulder tattoo that honors his namesake, a man he calls a legend among Houston's tight circle of downtown bicycle couriers. "I got this for Father's Day last year," he says of the inky rendering of the lone word "Wolf." A few feet away, his father and fellow courier, Andrew Medina Sr., smiles proudly. To some, it might seem an odd gift for Dad. But it's a fitting expression for a free spirit who adopted his father's bike-riding livelihood and lifestyle. Risking injury and dodging daydreaming drivers while delivering files for the city's litigious elite on weekdays, and continuing the wild ride for fun on days off, is definitely a lifestyle all its own. "I got sucked into this whirlpool (8 1/2 years ago), and I can't get out," another courier and cycling advocate, who answers to the name of "Squirrel," said last week during a break at the Flying Saucer bar, a courier hangout on Main. "I like it, though. I like it too much," said the man, who did not want to use his real name. "I have a car, but I ride most of the time. The way I see it, I'm one less car on the road." Among those affected by the Houston police crackdown on jaywalkers and other downtown traffic violators are the city's few dozen bicycle couriers. The stepped-up enforcement began June 13, and "Wolf" Medina was among the couriers cited for violations that included riding on sidewalks. For veterans, the Police Department's "annual crackdown" is just part of riding a bike for a living. "We respect what the police do," said the elder Medina, a 15-year veteran. "We're all part of downtown, doing a job like the office workers and secretaries." Not all couriers - an eclectic bunch of mostly men in their 20s and 30s who often gather outside the Chase Tower between deliveries to talk trash and chain smoke - are as diplomatic. "I feel like we're being picked on," said Ken Fairbanks, 31, a four-year courier who was ticketed for passing a car in the same lane. Houston police said cyclists received just 5 percent of the 335 citations issued downtown during the first week of the safety initiative. "I don't think that (couriers) are lawless," said officer Mary Andrews. "Most are obeying the law." About 70 percent of citations were issued to motorists for violations, such as failing to yield the right of way or running red lights. "We are (also) trying to make motorists aware that the bicycle has to obey same laws that motorists do," Andrews said. 'A shrinking market' Despite predictions that couriers would become obsolete in the digital age, a few dozen continue to make a modest living as they endure traffic tickets, wet winters, scorching summers, monster potholes and nonstop construction in a driving-obsessed town that hasn't historically been friendly to bicyclists. Most couriers transport legal documents between downtown law firms and courthouses. The couriers work as independent contractors for about 10 companies, which charge clients between $7 and $20 per package. Armed with pagers, cell phones, two-way radios, shoulder bags and bike locks, the couriers make up to 60 percent of a delivery fee. A good day may bring in excess of $150, but that could entail more than 20 miles of riding. The good work isn't always consistent, so some couriers hold second jobs. As the federal and state district courthouses have begun taking electronic filings, some couriers see the end of their occupation as inevitable. "It's a shrinking market," said David Willms, president of Mach 5 Couriers. Bicycle-courier service accounts for about 30 percent of Mach 5's business. Though the courts may begin to take more electronic filings, Willms thinks there will always be a need for couriers. "It will never phase out completely," he said, "but it will certainly be reduced by 75 percent in five years." Tight-knit subculture Many couriers are bicycle enthusiasts who live to ride bikes while living within a tight-knit, bike-friendly subculture that gathers annually at such events as the Cycle Messenger World Championships, taking place July 1-5 in New York City. Squirrel has traveled around the world to meet other couriers. He was first exposed to bike messengers in the mid-1990s while attending high school downtown. He remembers the elder Medina as a presence even back then. "I would see this guy all the time," he said. Local couriers such as Cisco "Da Kid" Niva turned Squirrel on to the worldwide courier scene. Though he finds other cities such as San Francisco and Austin friendlier to cyclists, Squirrel enjoys working in Houston. "You get used to it in Houston, getting honked at, swerved at, flipped off," he said. Niva publishes the on-again, off-again zine Humidity, which chronicles the courier community's events and characters. "I just love my job," said Niva, 29, an 8 1/2 -year veteran. "It was supposed to be a part-time thing. The next thing you know, it's eight years." Some couriers, such as 15-year veteran Chris Ferro, 37, are looking for exit strategies, such as investing in real estate. "It's a great job if you're a young, single guy living in a studio apartment," he explained, "but it doesn't pay enough, and the work's not always steady." The elder Medina doesn't know whether he can do the job forever, and he hopes his son will find a different occupation. "He's looking at finding a job working with computers," he said. Some former couriers still find themselves returning to commune with old buddies outside Chase Tower. Last week, Mason Courtney, 30, used his day off from his job at a sporting-goods store to ride to Chase Tower on his track bike, the quintessential, single-gear racing bicycle with no brakes preferred by some hard-core couriers. "The track bike is the next evolution of coolness. It's cool to be a bike messenger, but it's even cooler to be a bike messenger without brakes," Courtney said, only half-joking. "People see my bike, and they're like, 'Why?' If I have to explain it, you won't understand it." Courtney was a bicycling enthusiast, but occupational hazards forced him out of the business two years ago. He racked up a $15,000 medical bill after breaking his thumb while riding home. Like many couriers, he had no medical insurance. "Down here, you're riding on a knife's edge every day," he said. "It's not worth it." A vehicle ran him off the road while he was riding near University of Houston-Downtown. He has also been hit by vehicles that kept going, he says, but he will always remember his courier days fondly. "I got to play on a bike in downtown," he said, "and there's not a whole lot of people who understand that."
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