From Seti, Dublin's messenger 'zine, and heavily edited!

Banned in Boston...
And Cambridge... And the Trocadero... And 4040... And Killtime...

A word from Kenda to the Dublin couriers: "You should have come, you Fenian Bastards"

CMWC 2K. The initials strike fear into my heart. They send chills down my spine. The stuff of nightmares.

In 1996, I was very peripherally involved in San Francisco's CMWC. Our entire scene was; everyone pitched in. CMWC 2K was very different. Boston, as you may know, was voted the worst city to be a messenger in. The IFBMA decided that they would change the city's attitude by hosting CMWC there. John Kenda became president of CMWC and worked with the Blackouts (you know the guys that race drunk and nude?) and folks such as Ruth Mattson, who became vice-president, to organize the best CMWC ever. These intrepid souls were able to draw upon the experience of the world messenger community and the seven previous races. Unfortunately, the City of Boston had another plan. The city would appear polite and helpful, leading our heroes to believe things were underway, meanwhile, they would absolutely not allow any street closures for the event.

An e-mail was leaked to Philadelphia Bike Messenger Association organizer Wendy Fallin from a Boston city official, revealing that they never had any intention of allowing CMWC in their city: "[a messenger] hit one of our (Boston's) major citizens last year and hospitalized him in a coma for six months, so they are not high on our Mayor's list these days for special street-closing favors." Never mind that the man in question was jaywalking. Never mind that this was one incidence in years of courier activity in Boston.

After one last ditch effort to have the race in Cambridge, Massachusetts, the race moved to Philadelphia, the City of Brotherly Love. This worked well for me personally, as I was enrolling in art school in Philly. My friends were horrified to hear I wanted to move to Philadelphia. Andy even threw pieces of beef jerky at me. Philadelphians, he explained to me were so bitter that they booed Santa Claus. Not being Santa Claus, I figured I'd be okay.

Philly courier and professional racer, Cory Hilliard found an appropriate race course and secured permits for Fairmount Park, in front of the neoclassical Memorial Hall. The course was complete with a huge arch at the start/finish, a hill, and temporarily a petting zoo! Plus it was next to a free public swimming pool - we figured this would be the cleanest that messengers have ever been for a CMWC.

I headed to P-delphia in June and, in a nutshell, discovered it was not the place for me, so I headed out after a month. I continuned to do what I could to help, while the folks in the trenches kept struggling. Housing had to be secured, bribes averted, police secured, sponsors roped in, et cetera. Finally the race was almost upon us.

I went almost straight from the airport to a volunteer meeting and the energy was great! Out-of-townies had started trickling in and re-enthusing the locals. The posse I'm glad arrive was Volker and Till from Bremen, Spencer and Heather and Samantha Gordon from DC, Derek Chadbourne from Toronto, Brian MacMillan from Anchorage Alaska, Sean Belfast from Boston, and Chuck from Montreal - these guys drank and worked like maniacs. Anyway, the fruits of our labor were beginning to be enjoyed, and that night dozens of folks cheerfully stuffed 700 racer packets.

The next two days were spent being helper monkeys and drinking. One of my favorite bummies, Damon, hit town. He didn't suspect a trap, but within hours he was slaving away for not one but two of the Canadian Overloads. Chuck beat us and whipped us cruelly and only gave us a ration of cheap, canned American beer every half hour. Set up the courier art show at Comet Coffee, then the courier art show at 4040 - a space owned by the University of Pennsylvania where no drinking is allowed. Couriers in large quantities and no drinking - yeah right, that was about as successful as you might imagine. A mass ride from NYC streamed in - more couriers from all over, but these bore the effects of a week of nonstop partying already.

The IFBMA had a preliminary meeting on Thursday. I thought after three years of SFBMA unionizing meetings, this would be a piece of cake. Ha! Who thought up the idea of consensus decision-making for an international group of bummies? It rolled on forever and I was driven out to find more beer-friendly locales.

Friday began with an auspicious start: the hotel I was staying at caught on fire around 6.00 am. A lady a few doors down from me caught her bedclothes on fire, while smoking crack. Classy. Then when I rolled into 4040, everyone was packing up because CMWC events were pre-empted by another group. Par for the course. One of the trucks transporting art went awol for several crucial hours. That evening was... (drum roll please)... the World Welcoming Party! Let the games begin!!!

The mood was awesome. Meeting people I've conversed with for years. Seeing folks I hadn't seen in ages. Checking out the world premier of the classic SF courier flick: "Big Trouble in Little Bummie Town." After that I headed out with the Scots to Tattooed Mom's (very friendly, supportive bar and courier gathering place of the event), so I missed out on the screaming, the fist-fights, the nudity, the insulting of Trocadero's owner, trashing the Trocadero, the insulting of policemen, more screaming. Originally Trocadero was going to host the Award Ceremony, but after witnessing what the couriers had to offer, they decided they'd rather host rabid wolverines than the likes of us.

So courierdom flunked charm school en masse, but after everyone got their 30 minutes of sleep, it was time to race! Saturday started off with the Bilenky Cargo Classic organized by Simon Firth and Buffalo Bill. Then the main races which featured an intrepid Cookie from Calgary on a unicycle. Less nudity, more DFL competition. Team Satan (Two Wheels, One Dark Lord) was recruiting as many people as possible and ended up with twenty riders by the end of the race. Twenty slooooooww riders. Dirk from Arnhem, the perennial HPR champion, had the only major accident of the day. A guy from Connecticut rode right into him and screwed up Dirk's shoulder. The guy was hysterical because he thought he had broken Dirk's neck-thankfully not the case.

The race ended on time. This is completely unheard at messenger events. It might be a first. When the racing was over I noticed Chuck, whom I hadn't seen all day. He said he just finished racing. I noticed his number - he had been in the first heat. He had spent the entire day on the race course. DFL was possibly a stiff competition as first place this year, and the Danes weren't interested in locking up that position.

Bega from DC sponsored the bunnyhop contest. Roland and Ellie from Reload hosted the alleycat, which Team Satan's Bernie came in last for.

Sunday back to racing. This time it was my friend Broiler got in an accident. He hadn't even planned to go to CMWC, but won a ticket in an alleycat. His wife Stephanie (my Team Glue teammate) had their three-month-old baby with her, so I figured I better scramble down to the hospital to help out. He broke four bones in his ankle and one in his knee, so he had to stay overnight for surgery. Meanwhile I biked out into one of the worst rain storms I have ever been in. Missed the sprints. Gladly missed out on police getting fed up with the couriers in front of Tattooed Mom's. More fighting, more screaming, more insults, more pissed off cops.

Monday was the finals: four hours of nonstop racing. Then track bike events and the trials disaster from hell. Lots of screaming. Finally, finally, finally, finally, the awards ceremony that we had on the steps on Memorial Hall. If anyone didn't walk away with a new messenger bag I'd be impressed. Team Satan's Bernie from SF got DFL over all. What a dumb thing to sell your soul for [yes, this is jealousy talking. BTW you owe me $10 for beer].

Next day wild horses couldn't have dragged me into the IFBMA meeting. Instead Craig Nasty of Perth, excellent human that he is, and I checked out some bad impressionist art at the Philadelphia Museum of Art. Got the scoop on the meeting afterward: Hungary was voted to host next year's event. Heh heh heh heh [demonic laughter]. Oops, oh, I mean, good luck, guys!

That night was the best time I had that trip. Just chilling with my favorite posse of couriers, all responsibilities over, just beers with my favorite bummies. B-Mac (He-Who-Outdrank-the-Scots) showed that he had a font of insane energy and organized another alleycat. I overheard Kenda telling David, the representative from Paris, how lucky he was he didn't get to host CMWC. He was quite emphatic.

Well, I survived. We all did. That's good enough for me. And the Irish don't have to worry that they didn't make it this year, because Boston represented, and they're more Irish than the Irish anyway. Ow! Stopping hitting me!!-A