Bike Messenger
by Jeff Goode
copyright © 2007

I don’t live here. Not anymore. I’m just up from Miami. But I’m not from down there either. Not originally. Me, I’m from Brooklyn. Born and raised. But I’m retired now. Bike messenger. 25 years. I coulda been killed. You have no idea. But the money’s good. Not really. But you got no time to spend it. Runnin’ around all the time. So I know the streets around here pretty good. The village. SoHo. Up and down the financial district. Wall street. Those guys. Talk about your stress. I mean, don’t get me wrong. Bike messenger? In this traffic? Harrowing. Is what that is. Hazardous to your health. But at least I’m working out. Keepin’ active. But those guys. The traders. Brokers. Financial planning. They work up a sweat just from standin’ around screaming at each other. That’s not good on your heart. Too much pressure and no cardio to balance it out is an accident waiting to happen. And I been hit by busses. Not quite. This close. But that’s why half of ‘em down there got no hair. And they burst something at 30 and that’s it. Hope it was worth it, buddy.

I had a delivery one time. Not even a package. Just a little letter. Like a regular size letter. But they want it delivered bike messenger to this guy down on Wall Street. Pronto. Very urgent. No problem. I get it down there. 5 minutes. Big building. Huge. 52nd floor. Corner office. I hand it to the guy. He doesn’t even open it. One look at the envelope. Who it’s from. Whoom. White as a sheet. Like a ghost. Doesn’t say a word. Just goes back in his office. Close the door. Not even a tip. Next day, I got another delivery. Same address. Same office. Same building. Different guy. New guy. Young guy. Full head o’ hair. I don’t even ask. Got a big smile on his face like he’s happy to be there. Like he don’t know what’s ahead of him. Like he made it, finally. I wish I could tell him. But who’s he gonna believe? A bike messenger? I just wish him luck. He gives me a big tip.

So I got out. While I’m still young. Still got my health. Saved up some money. Moved to Florida. Warmer there. Less people. Slower pace... Yeah... I’m bored out of my mind! There’s nothing happening. Look, there’s a palm tree. There’s a bird. Ocean. I come up here every couple months. Just to walk around the village. (inhales deeply) Smell the piss and soot. This is the life. This is what it’s about. God, I miss it. The city. ‘Sgood to be home.