Couriers Pedal Mettle
On a 2nd Tour de DC
Bike Messengers Compete
To be Washington's Fastest
By Steve Vogel
Washington Post Staff Writer
Monday, April 15, 1996
One by one, the bicycle couriers raced up to the Crow
Bar at 20th and K streets NW on Saturday night and
skidded to a halt, hopping off their bikes like exhausted
Pony Express riders.
Reaching into their packs, they pulled out green manifest
sheets -- emblazoned with the logo "Deliver or Die" --
and began seeking the stamp that would allow them to
continue the race.
It was all part of the quest for the title of Washington's
fastest bicycle courier. The second annual courier race
was an unofficial, unsanctioned and irregular event that
had 65 of Washington's couriers racing through the
streets of the District to see who could get to eight
checkpoints the fastest.
Waiting for the arriving riders outside the Crow Bar was
Greg Skinner, one of the race organizers and himself a
courier. Skinner would stamp no manifest until the racers
had performed two courier-related tasks: locking their
bikes and quaffing a drink, a choice of beer or water.
For Washington's courier community, the race was an
opportunity to come together under less stressful
conditions than during the workday. "Most of it is about
unity and getting drunk afterwards," said Tom Shannon,
whose head was clad in a tie-dyed bandanna.
Some expressed hope that the event would soften the
image of couriers among a wary Washington public.
"A lot of people see couriers as rough idiots, but there's a
lot of intellect here," said Shannon, who said he was a
former nuclear technician with the Navy. "We're a bunch
of frustrated history majors."
Others saw the race as strict competition.
"It's really for bragging rights," said Mark Kerlin, who
came to Washington from California to work on Capitol
Hill but found life on a bicycle more interesting. "All of us
have big egos."
Couriers began gathering early in the evening at Dupont
Circle, the race's starting point. Some with their calves
tattooed, others with noses and ears pierced, the couriers
sprawled on and around the benches of the circle, many
of them plotting strategy.
One of the race organizers, who identified himself as A.Z.,
was conferring by radio to ensure that race handlers were
in position at all checkpoints throughout the city, all of
which were still secret from the racers. At 7:30 p.m., A.Z.
hopped up on the lip of the fountain and gave an opening
benediction.
"Be careful out there -- it's dangerous," he said.
Then he called out the first stop -- Church Park. Within
seconds, a pack of cyclists was pouring out of Dupont
Circle, all headed to a small plot of land on nearby Church
Street NW. There, the couriers were given fliers listing
seven more destinations they would have to reach,
including the exorcist steps at Georgetown University and
the Department of Energy on Independence Avenue SW.
There was a mystery checkpoint as well, and couriers
were given a phone number to call for the right address.
Those without phones or quarters were at a disadvantage.
The whole thing was meant to replicate a courier's life as
closely as possible, and at many of the stops, they would
have to perform tasks familiar to their job.
The racers could hit the stops in any order they chose
(picking the best route is a key courier skill).
Most chose as their first destination a stop in Adams
Morgan at a house on Kalorama Road NW. The
instructions demanded that they print their names, legibly,
on a waiting clipboard.
From Kalorama, the couriers began flying all over the
map. Some raced to the Department of Energy, where
they were required to pick up an egg and deliver it intact
to a building on D Street SW. Others raced to phones to
learn their mystery destination, a long uphill climb to 4000
Wisconsin Avenue NW.
Racing to the Crow Bar, Tom Shannon flew down 20th
Street the wrong way. Pedestrians filled the sidewalk, so
he headed down the street's middle lane, ignoring the
honks and yells of startled drivers.
"That's part of our job, annoying people," Shannon said.
A little more than an hour after the race began, the first
exhausted couriers began trickling back into Dupont
Circle, the final stop.
Kerlin was the first in, racing to the fountain to get the final
stamp on his manifest and, with it, victory.
Among the early finishers was Chris Schmidt. Stamping
his manifest was problematic though, as it was a gooey
mess. Unwisely, he had used the sheet to wrap around his
egg, and the egg had not survived the ride.
Soon all the couriers had returned and gathered at the
circle, some drinking celebratory beers and all reliving
highlights of the race in passionate detail. There had been
no accidents or run-ins with the police, and a post-race
party thrown by couriers beckoned.
"It looks like everyone came back in one piece," A.Z.
said. "Mercury was smiling down at us."
© 1996 The Washington Post Company
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