Retirement

So Monday marked my last day as a New York City bike messenger, however nominal a messenger I really was for the last year and a half. I have the same delivery route, so I see the same people and it was kind of funky knocking off my deliveries and seeing them for the last time in my life. It reminded me of that feeling the last night of a show's run where it hits you that that's the last time you'll do that scene, beat, or moment that you never quite got where you wanted it to be. As in theatre, that got me kinda jazzed and I picked up all my cues unconsciously and finished a full four minutes faster than my best record.

The following is a short list of goodbyes to people who I never really knew and who never got to know me. Both of us were completely interchangable, but they were part of my life for over a year of Monday mornings. Here it goes in order of delivery, the boring people have of course been omitted.

To the woman at the Conde Nast loading dock with the ripped arms: Thanks for always quickly opening the window on cold mornings.

To the silent guy who didn't give a fuck at Time Magazine: The whole damned time you only spoke twice, both times to tell me that you weren't accepting packages on Martin Luther King day. May your indifference bring you nowhere.

To my man at Rolling Stone: Thank you for the "good morning"'s and most of all for the unimpeded use of the bathroom key and letting me use the facilities clean enough for Jann Wenner to take a dump in. Good times.

To the wonderful women of 444 Madison Ave: You saved my ass on three separate occasions, thank you for being polite, professional, good at your jobs and good people. I hope they're paying you enough.

To the front desk guy at The Avedon Foundation: You're so damned cool, you must have been a messenger before you got that gig.

To my Russian pal at USA Today: Joe Felice told me to give you a free Newsweek Magazine every week and I did. For that, you never once asked me to sign in. Bribery really does work, you taught me that.

To the older man at the Newsweek front desk: I freaking love it when you sing! The marble makes it bounce around everywhere, total boost to my morning.

To the grumpy guys at 1010 WINS: Your office is in an underground garage, I imagine that it's the carbon monoxide that makes you cranky, thank god I never had to get signatures from you.

To the Puerto Rican lady at the Letterman Show: Thanks for letting me drop stuff off without having to go upstairs, and thanks also for calling me "ho-ney".

To Mr. Chin at Paramount: YOU'RE MR. FUCKING CHIN MAN!

To the older DCAS guy at 1 Centre Street: Thanks for being a sport about checking my tools.

Last but not least. Thanks to the good people at Lasership HQ on 39th Street: You put a lot of things in perspective for me. I know messenging is difficult cause I've done it. I've never had to do it while I was living at a homelesse shelter shelter in the Bronx or suffering from a physical ailment and walking with a cane. I took the job because it paid well and I liked the work, and above all my employer was matching me for health insurance, not because I had no other options because I hadn't finished high school/been convicted of a felony. That being said, WHY YOU GOTTA START SHIT WITH PEOPLE AT SIX IN THE FUCKING MORNING???!!! I love you all.