CMWC Tokyo Part 3

Monday I woke up early, ate a big bowl of cereal and took off for Tokyo. The plan was to head to registration and meet up with people who were going for a group ride to a park where there was going to be a bunch of trick riding. One thing that I was confused about with the event schedule in Tokyo was that there wasn’t any official trick event sent up. Japan was full of fixed tricksters, it seemed at times it was the center (in terms of popularity) of tricking, yet there were no official events or competition. So it was cool to find out there was something loosely organized going on. I took the train back into Tokyo, got off at Shinjuku Station and ended up walking half way around it to find my bike. Once I found it I hoped on and took off in what I hoped was the general direction I needed to go. I used the train line as a sort of guide to get back to Shibuya.

About a mile of so on the road I spotted a group of riders, I yelled to them to find out where they were going and they said Open Forum. I figured what the hell, someone there might know where to go to get to the trick event, and this would be an interesting opportunity. Open Forum was where people who cared got together to discuss the past year worth of events in the messenger world. They discussed issues that had developed ways to combat problems and also plans for 2010 and 2011 CMWC. I figured at least if I followed these people I would be somewhere that was remotely related to where I wanted to end up. I also knew at some point I would have to bike across the city to check into the hostel I was staying at as that night was night 1 of 2 that I was supposed to be there. Check in was after 2 so I had time to waste.

It ended up that the group of riders I found were from Chicago. I recognized a few of them from previous events but didn’t really no anyone. I just rode along and enjoyed the ride as one of them, Nico, lead the way. We got lost slightly, but found the spot for the meeting relatively easily. It was hidden in a residential neighborhood just east of Yoyogi Park, which is in between Shinjuku and Shibuya. Nico did a pretty good job of getting us there; even with the messed up Japanese address system. No wonder, as I discovered after returning home, he took first male at NACCC’s in Boston this year, beating all of the native Bostonians in their own town, coming in just behind other Chicagoan Tina, who was also in the group to Open Forum. So here I was unknowingly following the two fastest couriers in America…pretty cool.

We ended up being some of the first people there and the first non-event organizers. The room for the meeting was on the fourth floor and instead of waiting for the ancient elevator to take us there we started up the stairs. Coming out on the correct floor we had to take our shoes off and were directed into a large tatami mat covered room…very cool. Upon entering the room we were each handed a pillow to sit on. I followed Vernon, who I had initially met at the Cog Party two nights previously, and sat up against the back wall. As everyone milled about taking in the building and the view from the balcony more people began to trickle in slowly. At around 10:30 someone came in and told everyone that the meeting would be delayed for a while since some people were still at registration and waiting to ride to the meeting. By this point the room was about half full of couriers from all over the world, including a group of ruckus Australians. I took the opportunity to go in search of some lunch and left the building. I pulled my bike out of the pile of bikes that had accumulated since we first arrived and headed further up the hill that the building was on only to find myself heading back down it.

I pulled out onto a main road but stuck with the sidewalk. I chose one direction at random and rode, running into Nico and another guy on foot that were in search of a convenience store as well. I continued on and decided a mile or so later after not running into anything, which is incredibly odd, to turn back and tell them to head the other way. I cruised back down the sidewalk but didn’t run into them. A few blocks past the road I turned off of to get on the main stretch in the opposite direction I spotted a busy commercial district next to a train station below the bridge I was crossing. At the end of the bridge I hoped off the bike, shouldered it and jogged down the stairs to get to the lower street. I jumped on it and rode half a block before jumping of again when I found a 7-11. Parking the bike in front I went in and grabbed a supersized soba dish and some water. I already had two cans of beer in my bag left over from a 6-pack I had at Kijana’s. As I left the store one of the Chicago guys, known as Dump Truck, came into the store. I packed up my bag, hoped on the bike and headed back to the meeting.

More people had showed up in my absence but the meeting hadn’t started. I sat down and carefully ate my lunch, not wanting to spill any on the tatami. Once noon hit I popped open one of my beers, figured it was safe since it wasn’t morning anymore. The Australians had gotten pretty energetic and one of them had an entertaining conversation with a girl from California about the usage of the word ‘cunt’ and how the Australians use it in a generally friendly manner. I soon discovered the reason for the large group of Chicago messengers as Augie from said town began handing out information in regards to their bid to get the 2011 CMWC’s. In 2008 they had hosted a very successful NACCC’s and were ready to party again. The other towns that were bidding were Warsaw and Amsterdam. The consensus with the Chicago crowd was that if they didn’t get it they would love to see Warsaw get it, because when would anyone actually go there? There thinking was people will go to Amsterdam because it’s Amsterdam, but most people wouldn’t think of vacationing in Warsaw.

The meeting soon started and the house was packed. Only two members of the IFBMA (International Federation of Bike Messenger Associations) had shown up in Tokyo and from their attitude were beaten up. The board members work for one year and are chosen/selected during the 2^nd Open Forum, which takes place at the end of CMWC. Apparently there had been some issues with some of the current members and the two who went to Tokyo tried their best to get the anger directed away from them. Once that was over the representatives for the 2010 CMWC’s In Guatemala went over the details they had for that event. While it would be cool, it’s being stretched over a 2 week period and is up in the mountains in a very small town. I don’t want to be away from home that long or have to acclimate to the higher altitude, let alone the idea that the Guatemalan government is provided an armed security detail for the racers…Guatemala is a little unstable. But my safety actually doesn’t bother me; it’s the time away and the altitude…so I will not be going to that one. My hopes were on Chicago getting them for 2011, because that’s soooo much easier to get to.

After Guatemala was gone over the floor was open to bids for 2011, Chicago pled their case followed by Warsaw. Once they were done the call for Amsterdam to make their bid was sent out…and no one answered. Apparently Amsterdam had failed to show up to put in their bid. They decided to take a break for a while and convene with more agenda items like discussing what happened at the Boston NACCC’s. I found out later that the NACCC this year was not sanctioned by the IFBMA (which seems a bit weird for there to be authorization by this semi-governing body with a group of people who are all about individualization) but then again, there needs to be a bit of cohesion involved. I found out when I returned home and talked with Eric from Cog about the event what happened;

Right before the event was to take place the City of Boston reneged on the space they were allowing the organizers to use for the race and pretty much told them to get bent. So faced with no space and a bunch of people on their way to race they decided to make the main race (no qualifying round) a real life simulation event open only to messengers and ex-messengers. Racers had 5 hours to complete as many manifests as they could out in the open roads of Boston. A lot of people felt this was unfair as the locals would have a better chance at winning the event due to their familiarity of the city. That all ended up being wrong when the first two spots were taken by Tina and Nico from Chicago. From what Eric told me and from people who went Boston’s NACCC it was an excellent event that truly simulated the courier’s job.

I decided it was time to strike out and get checked in to the youth hostel. I left the Forum and hoped on my bike, trying best as I could to navigate my way to the eastern area of Tokyo known as Akihabara. I headed out towards what I figured was Shinjuku only to be reaffirmed by that when I found the Tokyo Metropolitan Government Building(s). I chose what I figured was the correct general direction of East; it was hard to tell since the sky was overcast, and headed out. After a while I spotted a sign letting me know which neighborhood I was in, it said Nakano. I thought, cool I was headed in the right direction as this was the neighborhood east of Shinjuku. I kept going, enjoying the ride, blowing past traffic as they got stalled at intersections I was able to pull through safely.

I rode on for a got 15 or 20 minutes, keeping my eye on the signs that listed the neighborhood (thankfully I understood the characters for Nakano) when it dawned on me I was thinking of the wrong neighborhood. Nakano was west of Shinjuku, the one I was thinking of was Yotsuya…don’t ask me how I confused the two, the Japanese for both aren’t even related. Nakano literally translated into Middle Field and Yotsuya translates into Fourth…something or other, the character looks like a house and is the same ‘ya’ that’s in Shibuya. So anyways…I stopped, a bit disturbed by my mistake, turned around and headed back the other way down the road I had been flying down for quite a while. Two things made me push it even faster backtracking, the first was the fact that I had already traveled a few miles in the wrong damn direction, the other was the noticeable decline in the road, that I hadn’t quite noticed as I was going the other way and heading steadily higher. This fact continued to confuse me in the texture of the roads in Tokyo and their effect on your wheels. It seemed that they aided significantly when going down any form of decline, but didn’t really affect you when going up an incline…it is bizarre.

At some point in my backtrack I turned off of the road I followed out of Shinjuku, following street signs that point you in the general direction of various sections of the city, mostly ones that are nearby. The problem, which I didn’t discover until later, is that these signs are a bit ambiguous in their direction. So I took the direction that would supposedly lead me to Yotsuya and the neighborhood of Iidabashi which is more easterly of Shinjuku. And I kept biking and biking and enjoying every moment of it. Occasionally I would turn off, following the ambiguous directional signs…never to actually ride through Yotsuya or Iidabashi. After quite some time on the bike, maybe an hour or so, I noticed a sign that had me worried. It said that I was headed towards the neighborhood of Ueno, which is north of my ultimate destination. Not to far from that first sign I stopped next to a subway station and pulled out the best map I had, which detailed the train and subway lines, and tried to get a rough idea of where I was, as the line maps just show general direction…or better yet layout of the line its self, in nice geometrical pathways that don’t conform the actual thing. Luckily the subway map shows then entire subway line so I can get a rough estimation of the location of a specific station. Upon looking at the map I noticed that yes, I had somehow gone north east and had been slowly skirting the northern end of the Tokyo proper…yay.

I entered Ueno, passing by Ueno Park and at least knew I was getting closer to my destination, but I had never gone directly from Ueno to Akihabara any way other than train so was only mildly sure of the direction I needed to head in. I continued on, only partially irritated for being lost but still thoroughly enjoying biking through out Tokyo. After another 15 minutes or so of aimlessly riding in the general direction I got into Akihabara. I skirted the south end of the famed electric district and crossed the river just south of the train station. I knew I was incredibly close to my destination. The night before I had looked at a rough map of the area online and remembered that I had to cross the river and it would be near by. I pressed on, trying to keep my eyes out for anything that might help me locate at least the train station I was looking for from the directions to the hostel. After a while of wandering I saw a sign that talked pointed me towards Ginza, which I knew was taking me too far south, frustrated I pulled over after coming across a subway station. I located the station in my map book and realized that I was south of where I needed to be. I picked the direction I thought I needed to go and took off, now getting irritated. Another 10 minutes or so I came across another subway station only to find I had headed in the wrong direction, I was further south now. I turned around and headed back the way I came and when I neared the last station I turned down a different direction only to wander around for another 10 or 15 minutes before stumbling upon the train station I needed.

In only partial relief I pulled out the walking directions to the hostel leading from the station and biked them. I had to cross a river and from there the 2^nd block would lead me to the hostel. What was confusing is that the intersection after the river had more than 2 roads converging so I had to decipher what 2 blocks actually represented. I figured it had to be off of the main road and began to slowly bike down a side street. The thing with Tokyo is that there aren’t really any alleys. Just smaller roads behind the big roads with smaller ones behind them, but there really aren’t alleys. I wandered through a few of the side streets, cutting back and forth, searching for the building. I back tracked to the bridge and did it all over again to suddenly find the building, which was somewhat non-descript if you weren’t looked directly at it, even though it was checkered black and white. A wave of relief flooded over me and I parked the bike and went to check in, having to take my shoes off before entering.

I checked in and told one of the reception girls about my misadventures over the past 2 and a half hours, much to her amazement. I asked her if she knew the best way to get to Ginza, which was a little south of our current location, and she blanked on me, gave me a map as a present and wished me luck. I went to my bunk, stashed most of my baggage and proceeded to leave for Ginza for some shopping and dinner. Even though I had biked countless miles around northern Tokyo I wasn’t hungry, just thirsty. I knew I should eat, but I wasn’t concerned with it. I was leaving the hostel when I ran into a messenger who was also staying at the hostel and we chatted long enough for me to find out he was one of three messengers from Amsterdam. I told him that the people at Open Forum were looking for them and he got concerned when he said that his two friends had gone to it and I told them I didn’t see them. We exchanged a few more words and I took off for Ginza.

I decided that the best course of action would be to head to the nearest train station that dealt with the Yamanote line. From there as long as I followed the train line south I would end up in the heart of Ginza. I pinpointed the nearest one on my map; eye balled the route and took off, with map in pocket. I was more confident that I would get around better with the map. It wasn’t the brightest move to wander around Tokyo without one, but I fared pretty well, especially without asking for help from anyone, and a few times I really contemplated it. But I chose not too because my Japanese skills aren’t that hot and most people can’t or don’t like to speak English, making it difficult at times to get things accomplished that way. I took off with renewed energy, even after riding all those miles. I had to remind myself to take it easy since I didn’t want to burn out before the next days qualifying round.

I easily found the train station I pinpointed and was easily able to follow the trains’ course as a series of small streets ran along it, featuring an array of restaurants, shops and odd vendors. Following these tucked away roads seemed to put me in a Tokyo that you don’t see if you stick to the main paths. Pakistani restaurants next to small pachinko halls and old family run liquor stores, the ‘seedy’ side of Tokyo, life under the tracks. People actually seemed surprised by my presence as I buzzed by, with my solitary goal in mind.

The side roads ended before I hit Ginza, but luckily the terminated just north of Tokyo station. I knew how to get to Ginza from there and no longer had to ‘feel’ my way. This did present a new challenge to me in the form of a large open roadway that didn’t really adhere to any sort of demarked guidelines. I suddenly found myself in the middle of a large roundabout with lots of taxi’s and other cars not really doing anything. I had a red, checked all around to see who had the green, didn’t spot anything, checked again for hidden traffic and decided it was physically, if not legally, safe for me to continue on my marry way. I followed the course past the station and into more open road spaces that were somewhat disorientating, continuously on the watch for errant taxis and buses, but never finding any. By the time I got back to what resembled a main road, traffic had finally caught up to me as apparently the speed limits in this stretch of road were pretty high.

Wanting to maintain my course I pulled into the left drive lane, the one furthest from the curb, and forced traffic to cope with my reduced speed and pulled under a freeway to find myself right in the heart of Ginza train line to my right and the first truly recognizable section of town I had been in all day. With glee from my amazing luck I pulled out into the incredibly busy street that cuts through Ginza heading from the Imperial Palace all the way to the bay and turned again down a small street just west of the train lines. I was on a mission to find the first restaurant I had ever eaten at in Japan that was located under the tracks, an Italian bistro named Bravo and to my mild surprise I found it was still there 10 years after the last time I had eaten there. I happily locked my bike up to a pole across the street from it, with a few pedestrians looking at me strangely and started to head into the establishment…then I realized how I was dressed.

I was sweaty; I had been biking around Tokyo all day. I stunk, see previous sentence. I wasn’t really in the best condition to step foot in a white table cloth restaurant in the most expensive shopping district in Tokyo, if not the world. I hesitated, looked inside the restaurant and decided against revisiting the past when I saw the place packed with sensibly dressed women. I would pass on offending them with my presence and appearance. Instead I turned into the restaurant next door to it, which I have eaten at before and sat down for a meal of conveyor belt sushi. Once I had my fill of shrimp, tea and rice I left the restaurant and decided to hit up a large toy store I knew about in Ginza. I took off down the main drag, headed east; pondering which of the streets I needed to turn down to get to the store.

A few blocks away I hit Ginza’s large pedestrian intersection, right as the pedestrian only light turned green. I chanced it and power through as quickly as I could; trying to get through before the runners/speed walkers impeded my path. I made it out mostly unscathed, having to only swerve around a few people. The next red light I hit a few blocks later I ran into 2 young Japanese kids with fixed gears. I greeted them and they started speaking English to me. They asked were I was headed and when I told them they told me they thought the store I was looking for was down the street we were stopped at. I thanked him for the help and turned left down that street before traffic got the green light. As I did I realized that the street was swamped with foot traffic. There were tables set up in the middle of the road and the police had cordoned off the street from cars. People wandered everywhere talking, shopping, grazing and photographing. I traveled a few blocks south and found the end of the cordoned off area and the toy store. Just as I stopped and was going to take some photos of the street to show the crowds the police started to take down the southern barrier and warn people that traffic would once more be flowing through the road. I parked my bike, bought a juice and headed into the toy store to find gifts.

After leaving with a package the size of my bag I loaded it up and headed back for the youth hostel. Retracing the roads I had taken to get there I easily got back into the hostels neighborhood. On the way I ran into 3 messengers headed south. I shouted out to them to see what they were doing, always on the look out for an alley cat and was disappointed to find they were headed back to their own hostel. I carried on only finding that when I got to the river near mine I couldn’t find the hostel. In frustration I retraced and retraced my steps from the river, remembered in the police box next to it and everything, only to come up empty. After a few times doing this I decided to stop and ask for help at the police station. Through my broken Japanese, their broken English and both our maps I realized I was at the wrong street to begin with. I found my way to the correct bridge and correct police box and easily found the youth hostel. I parked my bike around the back of the hostel which was actually to a guard rail running along a larger road.

The Dutch messenger I met earlier was out front with one of the other Dutch messengers and we chatted for a minute. I dropped my stuff in my room and went back outside to relax and drink. I biked down the street to a convenience store, bought a few cans of Chu-hi and went back and sat down next to the Dutch messengers and began chatting more. They left after a bit to get supper and I sat, nursing my beverages. At one point a man wandered around the corner and headed to the nearby vending machine. Let’s just say the man was obviously Yakuza (Japanese mafia) and if I would have been thinking I would have taken a photo of me, but I was too tired and to relaxed to want to risk dealing with pissing off one of the local gangsters. Eventually, maybe an hour of sitting and doing nothing all 2 ditch messengers arrived and we all started to drink, heavily. As the night progresses we moved into the basement of the hostel to continue drinking, with one of us running to the convenience store nearby to buy yet another 4 pack, as we chatted about anything and everything in the hostels renovated chill space. I ended up turning in to bed about 1:30 in the morning after having consumed an unknown number of beer cans and a few Chu-hi to the thoughts that I drank too damn much the night before qualifying…then again it wouldn’t be a true messenger event with out the detrimental effects of alcohol.

TKBMA fundraiser

So, with my move to do more major alley cats starting in 2010, I have to sadden myself and not plan to go to Chicago Halloween weekend and participate in their 2 day Halloween race(s). Next years event will hopefully be in the picture. But upon stumbling on this event, as these things tend to hide if you don't know where to look or who to ask, I also found the website about the global effort to help TKBMA (the people responsible for the CMWC last month in Tokyo) to get out from under their substantial debt that racked up from throwing the event, which is being called the best CMWC ever by people. So the website is here and Chicago is kicking everyones ass, so it is also unfortunate that I have been unable to support the cause by participating in the first race they through to raise cash a few weeks ago and the upcoming Halloween. Oh well, more opportunities will present themselves and I'll just add Chicago's insane Halloween race to the list for next year.

CMWC Tokyo Part 2

Sunday brought the night of the opening party and a trip with Kijana into the hills near his house. We headed out to a nearby park/river, with Kijana still hugging the sidewalk and me navigating the street, getting directions from him as to where to go. I had everything under control with riding on the opposite side of the road with the exception of making right hand turns. After cutting off a few cars and running a red light we made it to a paved multi-use pathway that ran along the river. The path was pretty similar to the ones I’m used to in Milwaukee with the exception of barriers set up every couple of blocks to prevent either cars from getting to far if they choose to try and get onto the pathway or from people doing time trials. I wanted to get some speed my self and was annoyed at having to slow down repeatedly to navigate between metal barriers, sometimes having to go off-road to pass them. Eventually we made it to the end of the line and locked our bikes up to the guard rail at the base of the hill. We then proceeded to get lost for about an hour wandering the mountain trails and finding a gold course among other oddities. The view was pretty cool and we debated the problems with Japanese and American educational systems while watching a group of school kids play soccer down at the base of the hill.

After the hill excursion and my incredibly sore legs (we ended up running from the Cog Party the night before to the train station to make sure we caught the train we needed…I don’t run and we did about a kilometer) I was ready to get back to Tokyo with my bike and work out the muscles with the kind of use they enjoyed and were used to. After a hearty protein fueled lunch of buffalo burgers I disassembled the bike, wrapped it in a bed sheet and walked to the train back to Shinjuku. Kijana wanted to get stuff done at his house so I was solo, which was fine by me because I was itching to hit the streets of Tokyo. The train ride was long and boring and everyone pretty much ignored me and my odd shaped package. At Shinjuku station I climbed out into the city, unwrapped the bike and began reassembling it on the sidewalk, to curious stares. They have an understandable, but quite annoying policy in Japan while traveling via train with a bike. You have to remove both wheels and turn your bars and cover the entire thing up. Preferably you put your bike in a bag they have designed for this purpose called a rinko bag, but I didn’t feel like spending the $50 minimum for one and went for the bed sheet route. Once the bike was assembled, checked over and the sheet was in my bag I took off, with a vague sense of direction.

I wasn’t able to get out to the street right away and had to slowly navigate the sidewalk for a block or so, dodging the throngs of pedestrians and finally getting forced off of my bike to navigate the busy intersection. Once I was on the actual road I was able to hop back on and take off, in what I felt was the appropriate direction. I used the train line as a guide and headed southward, towards the neighborhood of Shibuya. Soon enough I found myself on the same road we had traveled on Saturday on our way to the registration office, which was perfect, since I would be able to find my way back easily. I was headed there to find out how to get to the club that the party was in and throw down some Goldsprint action. Rolling through the streets of Tokyo I noticed right away how free of blemishes the asphalt was. There was also a substantial lack of debris in the road as well. Being unfamiliar with the area and the large volume of traffic I played it cautious and didn’t gawk too much at my surroundings.

As I neared Shibuya station I got caught at a red light, wanting to take the chance to get everything in, gather my bearings and not tempt fate by trying to weave through the heavy cross traffic I sat at the line and waited. Right before the light turned green I noticed another cyclist out of the corner of my eye weaving through traffic. Said cyclist called out to me and asked if I spoke English, when I said I did he seemed incredibly relieved. He introduced himself as Jerome from Montreal and he followed me to registration. We chatted a little about Tokyo on our way there and he explained that he had come up with the same plan I had on how to get to the party, he just couldn’t remember how to get to registration. Jerome was in town not to race but to network with people, an exhibit of his work at a friend’s studio and mostly to photograph the race and the city. Jerome is an ex-messenger turned professional photographer who lives on his bike. We arrived at the place and there was a good amount of people there hanging out and drinking. Jerome free locked his bike and I told him I’d keep an eye on it. He wanted to run into the building and take care of some things.

I ended up hanging out at the registration building for a while after I decided I would just wait for Jerome and we would head over to the club together. I got a few beers from the 7-11 next doors and just observed everyone around me. A constant flow of people came back and forth, half foreigners. As the locals came through the tight packed streets and saw all the bikes and curious looking gaijin I wondered what they were thinking by what they were taking in. There was a really good chance that this space didn’t usually see messenger activity, especially not in the volume it was currently witnessing. I have discovered that many spaces in Tokyo tend to change what they do pretty frequently, especially in terms of bars, clubs and restaurants. There seems to be an ever revolving door of establishments everywhere in the metropolis. It was very likely that this space is normally used for events or business not even remotely relating to the throng of bike nuts it was hosting now. Aside from the messenger bases and a few spots throughout the city there appeared to be few permanent messenger hang outs that existed, everyone just kind of flowed through the city like the flow through traffic…like water, going where they needed to and where the road took them at that particular time.

By the time Jerome was ready to roll he had been grabbing as many people, myself included, to do portrait shots of out in the street and in the stairwell of the registration building, it was night time (dusk was around 6pm). I had been hearing rumors that the party was pretty much done, the Goldsprints were finished and the club was filled with a bunch of drunks, regardless we chose to head out there anyways. Jerome wanted to gather a huge group of people to ride to his nearby gallery space after things were said and done with the club. We took off on our own and Jerome pulled out his camera to take shots while we rode there. After pulling down one street, deciding that was the wrong one and continuing on down the road we ended up getting pretty far off course. We pulled down another street and turned back around a few blocks later and decided to stop at a bike shop we passed to get help. At the shop were 3 Americans who were a bit lost as well. The shop was a welcomed aid station for Jerome who was running extremely low pressure on his front wheel. While he pumped it up, other foreigners and I talked as best as we could with the owners of the shop and ogled the rows of frames dangling from the ceiling and the shiny components. The shop was called Sexon Super Peace and the people who ran it were pretty nice, stickers and flyers were exchanged between some of us and one of the other Americans started talking about how he had just ordered a frame from Eighth Inch the previous week and was excited to get it. Score for the ‘sponsor’. People had been commenting bike a fair amount in the few short hours it had been in Tokyo, especially the classic track drop handlebars. The three Americans took off ahead of us on their way to find the club too. They had been there previously and were trying to find it again. Jerome and I took off again and got lost, yet again. We pulled up to a restaurant and stopped, debating about asking them for directions as the club is semi known. I looked in on the crowd of respectable businessmen and faltered. Jerome said he would do it if I was nervous and that settled it, I told him I’d do it and I went in, helmet and all.

I smiled and greeted the first staffer I ran into as the entire establishment stared at me; then again I can’t blame them. You would stare too if you were a suit wearing salaryman enjoying a late evening dinner with some coworkers (it was Sunday though, so what’s with all the suits?) and a large, pierced and tattooed foreigner sporting a hairnet helmet and a large messenger bag with the words ‘Dead Kennedys’ blazoned across it came in off of the street and started asking the waiter directions to an unsavory hip hop club. The waiter quickly had me wait outside while he found a coworker with good English to explain how to get there. I stepped outside and smiled at Jerome and said they politely kicked me out while they got me the directions. As we waited two messengers from Australia showed up too, lost as well, and decided to stick with us as I got some vague directions to the club with the guy discreetly telling me that Love Hotels were near it. With some sense that we had to go back the way we came all four of us took off. We came back to the first street we turned off of and headed back the way we had come, as we rolled down the street we ran into the three guys we had come across at the bike shop, this time they were on foot and they yelled at us to follow them as they had found it. We all hopped off of our bikes and got on the sidewalk. We turned left onto the side street Jerome and I had originally turned on and I said must not have been the right one. We went down the street about 2 or so blocks and saw the club and the Love Hotels across the street from it…yeah it was hard to miss this place once you found it.

The street was flooded with bikes and I went to find a place to lock mine but a Japanese man told me to head further down and lock it at the club. Messengers were spilling out of the parking lot next to the club out onto the street and a large white man was yelling at them to get back into the parking lot. This large white man wan an American expat named Eli who had been living and working as a messenger for around 5 years. He was incredibly drunk and incredibly happy to have all of the people in front of him in his second home. Jerome knew Eli from previously and talked to him about helping inform people about his exhibit and the idea of a group ride to it when things closed down at the club, which was scheduled to happen around 8pm. I introduced myself to Eli as he had given me some electronic assistance with some questions I had earlier. I looked at the piles of bikes and locked mine as best I could then headed into the club.

I could understand why everyone was standing out in the alley as opposed to being in the club, there wasn’t much to interest many of them in the club once the Goldsprints were finished, the music was loud and the beer was expensive. So instead the majority chose to hangout outside where they could drink cheap beer and network, as that was one important thing many people came to these events for. I stuck around the club for a few minutes before tiring of it as well and wanting to connect with Kevin again, just to touch base with Milwaukee. Kevin was incredibly busy with being the sole Cog representative in Tokyo and I just wanted to let him know that I hadn’t died and was getting around, for what ever that would amount to. I felt better doing that. I asked Eli where the closest convenience store was and headed off in that direction to find another large group of messengers and a slightly smaller locked pile of bikes. Out front of the store I found some of the guys I met the previous night at the Cog party who were from Chicago, including ex-Milwaukeean Drew. I got a beer and a rice ball and chatted a little with the Chicago guys. Pretty soon Jerome showed up and I introduced him to Kevin as he knew the other two members of Cog, I figured it was a nice thing to do.

Soon though, I headed back to the clubs parking lot as things were beginning to wind down. Eli was still yelling happily at everyone to get out of the street and that they would soon be taking off for a group ride to Hibiya Park, which from there they would ride to the camp ground and Jerome’s gallery showing. I climbed over the increased pile of bike to get mine unlocked, not wanting to damage anyone’s ride and pulled it out onto the street. I walked back down to the convenience store, got some more beer and waited for the ride to start. I rode with the American I had run into at Sexon who had purchased the Eighth Inch frame and a small group of us took off to the Park. The guy leading the ride to the park was an American bike polo player who apparently had a great understanding of Tokyo’s streets; he had been there before to ride.

From the club we rode through Shibuya crossing right in the middle of pedestrian insanity. As we weaved in and out of the throng of humanity the guy riding next to me accidentally clocked a woman in the head with the helmet he had strapped to the side of his bag. Not having enough time or safety to check if she was still standing we continued on. I kept shouting out warnings in Japanese and as I weaved between two young women they smiled with delight at my warnings. As soon as we passed through the crowd we noticed it was really only 4 or 5 of us that were continuing on the same and apparently correct path. The rest of the crew had gotten mixed up out of the crossing and we weren’t sure which way they had headed. We rode for about 10 more minutes and turned into the park.

We came to a stop at an area skirting a small pond and since dusk had happened around 6, 8:30 looked more like midnight and felt like it too. Only a half dozen riders had showed up and in the darkness I couldn’t tell who was who. I pulled out the beer I had in my water bottle cage, chided myself for only having this one left and waited for more people to show up. Soon someone brought out a Frisbee and an entertaining game of dark/drunk Frisbee ensued. Jerome and another photographer rode around taking shots and the other guy showed him a crazy technique for shooting while on the bike. He had the camera locked between his neck and shoulder and was shooting from the side, it was crazy but apparently worked really well. As time stretched on I finished my beer and a few moe people showed up, I knew I wouldn’t be able to hang around much longer, even though I really did want to check out Jerome’s gallery showing. I needed to get to Shinjuku and catch the train back to Kijana’s house before it was too late. After a while longer and no one really showing up I decided to take off. I ran into Jerome on my way out and apologized for not being able to make it to the gallery that night and took off.

I was again off on my own in Tokyo, but this time it was the middle of the night and I only had a vague sense of the direction I was headed in. Cars gave me a respectable berth until I arrived in the heart of Shinjuku, which was surprisingly easy to get through even though I had little clue to where I was headed. Pulling into the area around Shinjuku Station was substantially busier but easier to navigate at night due to all of the lights. In a way it was easier to navigate at night than in the day due to the lights being directed towards the street and sidewalk and giving the area more contract that you can find during the day. What I had to adapt to quickly were the patterns of the taxis. Unlike taxis in America, you can truly call the cabbies in Japan professionals. I highly doubt there are any non-Japanese taxi drivers to begin with as even native residents have a hard time getting around the city due to its confusing layout and the unfriendly address system employed in Japan. Only major roads have names and the buildings are numbered by order of construction. You would be hard pressed to find a cabbie from south western Tokyo who could get you to a spot in north eastern Tokyo easily and trouble free.

The cab drivers like most ‘professionals’ in Japan are neat, clean, courteous and disciplined. They all wear white gloves and uniforms and the cabs are impeccable with little white doilies around the headrests. This and the general conservative driving habits on Japan in general leads to taxi’s that don’t go out of their way to try and turn you into their hood ornament. The thing you do need to look out for is a maneuver that resembles salmon going upstream to die/spawn. While street parking is pretty rare in Tokyo, the curb lane is a magnet for idling. So in large groups cabs and other vehicles will simultaneously merge into the curb lane to idle, for hopefully well thought out reasons. This can get a little complicated if your riding in said curb lane and all of a sudden what was once an open route becomes a jumble of cars trying to politely jokey for prime idling positions. They use their blinkers but they also hesitate and you have to guess exactly at which point they will merge over and stop and how close they will pull up to the curb. At points like these I found it was just better to ride the middle of the rode as you wouldn’t be in the way of any merging cars and traffic was usually crawling close to the train station to make it so you could easily outpace them.

Once I located the train station I stopped at a McDonalds to get a quick bite to eat as I hadn’t had anything more than rice balls and beer since lunch. I locked my bike up in front of a pachinko parlor and a middle aged guy eyed me up oddly, probably more for the fact that a foreigner was riding a bike around in Shinjuku more than anything. I went into the restaurant and got my food, which I proceeded to wolf down heartily, not realizing how hungry I was. I decided to walk the bike to park it so I could eat my food. I shoved the soda in my pocket and started eating fries directly from the container. Now in Japan there is a huge social faux pas about eating and drinking while mobile, this seems to also apply to the trains even though you’re not the one moving. So I’m sure me shoving my face into a container of French fries while walking my bike around Shinjuku didn’t help anyone with their uneasiness let alone elevate their opinions on fat Americans. Tough, I figured I’d be better off eating while on the street than on the train, at least if I finished it all before I got on the train I wouldn’t have to carry around the garbage for an hour and a half, if I was lucky enough to find a garbage can anyways. While Tokyo is incredibly clean there is a bizarre and concerning lack of waste receptacles. The best you can usually do is to find a bottle/can bin next to a vending machine, but even that is a crap shoot. Out right garbage cans are about as rare as the sushi.

So I walked and ate then locked my bike to an open spot at the ‘east’ exit and recalled advice I had received from Eli earlier in the evening. He said that 99.99% of the time no one will mess with my bike. That 0.01% would be the cops and he has never had it happen to him. I know that there are usually designated bike parking spots, but I didn’t know where one was nor did I care. The streets are lined with guard rails and they are easy to lock your bike to. On the off chance that someone would get sticky fingers I did take my lights off. Once locked to the rail I took one good last look at it, on the off chance it offended a cop and they decided to cut through my u-lock (which I doubt they would even readily have the tools to do…this isn’t New York after all) and tried my best to remember exactly which exit I was parked near. In all the times I have come through Shinjuku Station I have never really used the same exit/entrance. The place is huge and sprawling making it very difficult to traverse as a tourist. I’m sure it takes a local a few times to get the route down perfectly.

I wandered around the station until I found the some ticket machines and purchased my ticket. I ended up dropping it on the floor and as I bent to pick it up the remainder of my drink emptied its self into my cargo pocket as the cup opened up. With nothing else to do aside from pulling the mostly empty cup out and putting the ice back into it I walked until I found a lone garbage can, which was a bit of a journey resulting in a wet leg/sock/shoe. I through out my trash and tried as best as possible to sop as mush of the drink out of my pocket as I could and wipe my leg down a little bit. I don’t think anyone realized I had half a cup of Hi-C empty it’s self into my pocket then proceed to drip down my leg. There wasn’t much I could do so I coped and found my platform.

The ride back to Kijana’s was boring and uneventful as the IPod I had with me died right away and I chose to stand instead of sitting next to anyone and making them smell me after biking around all day. I arrived unscathed and crashed pretty quickly, readying myself for the next days adventures as I would return to Tokyo and stay for a few days. For now though, it was sleep after a bath and light packing for the next day.

Fundraising - but not for me this time.

I found out last night that TKBMA (Tokyo Bike Messenger Association) is in a bit of debt from throwing CMWC last month and a global effort has been taken up by the messenger community to help them out a bit. I found out about this through connections I had made with a few messengers in Chicago while In Tokyo who are throwing a charity alley cat this Saturday to benefit TKBMA.

The event is being called downtown.shakedown.v2 and is being orchestrated by Chicago messenger Nico, who while being a really cool guy won first male in this years NACCC’s in Boston and placed 16^th in Tokyo. The race starts at Daley Plaza, 50 w Washington, in downtown Chicago at 7pm this Saturday the 10^th and costs $7. Check out the event page on Facebook here or contact Nico directly at nicocabrera84@yahoo.com.

Also, if you are in the giving mood you can donate to help cover the plane ticket costs for the male and female winners of this years NACCC’s for the trip to next years CMWC in Guatemala. As stated previously Nico took first male and co-Chicago courier Christina, who also took 3^rd female in Tokyo won 1^st female and 1^st overall at this years NACCC’s. Normally the host city of the NACCC’s will pay for the plane ticket to the top male/female winners to the following years CMWC but The NACCC’s this year did not charge an entry fee and did not have the fund to put towards the cost of the tickets, so the messenger community is stepping up and trying to raise money for the tickets instead. If you want to donate to this cause you can do so at this website.

-EDIT- Ok, so I discovered that the fund raising site is expired at the moment, so as soon as a new one gets set up I'll post that link here.

First Friday Alley Cat - October 09

After a two month hiatus there was finally another race. Peter from Cog was responsible for the race in August, but had canceled it, there defaulting Septembers race as his as well. September never happened and few people showed up. Julian from Milwaukee Courier and my self were the only regular racers that showed up along with 4 fresh faces. After realizing there wasn’t going to be a race a few of us took it on ourselves to come up with fall back plans. So for October’s race I was anxious to see who was going to show up and what was going to happen. Just incase, I figured I needed a fall back plan and brought a marker, a roll of masking tape and a deck of cards. I was prepared to do a fall back race like the first First Friday I did. Eric from Cog showed up as well and he had a race planned and before long the guys from the previous month who said they were going to plan one too showed up and we all settled on theirs.

Six people signed in, small, but at least we were racing and I was happy to do an actual race instead of having to run around taping playing cards to bike poles. The race started and we all went out side and were informed the manifests were located at the end of the breakwater in an empty box of Total stuffed in the last garbage can on the breakwater. None of use were really sure where we where going but had an idea it was located in or near McKinley Marina. We all took off to the marina where after a false route and a bit of off road fun we found the breakwater and sped out to its end in the black of night. I grabbed my manifest and followed Eric back to the parking lot and light to go over the manifest. I quickly poured over the stops and decided to head north first. I shot out of the marina’s parking lot and climbed the hill behind Alterra to get into the East Side. I began rolling northward, hugging the top part of the cliff, looking for the first stop. As I went I noticed that another racer was following me. I don’t remember his name anymore but this race was his first one, he decided he would follow me since I looked like I knew what I was doing. I was only partially certain as to where I was going.

We flowed north past Lake Park and he helped me figure out where exactly the first 2 stops were, they were both located just north of the park. We arrived just as another racer did, the one who scored a sweet Shag Bag in August as his reward for DFL during Shaggy’s 8-15 Race. (I took 3^rd in that one and scored a nice replica hairnet helmet by Dank Bags out of Seattle) We all worked together to find the answers to the first two stops and with a minimal amount of uncertainty and time wasting took off to head westward for the next stop. As we rolled down the street I scanned the manifest hastily to try and get a sense of the layout of the stops. There were a few in or near Riverwest and the rest of them seemed to be in or near Bay View. Unsure of where to go I followed the other two as we headed north on Oakland…cautious to the route, with a nagging voice at the back of my head saying we were headed the wrong direction. Thankfully I was wrong and the next intersection we were looking for was south of Riverside High School.

The answer was the name of the Porto-john at the end of the street and I made mental note of it and turned around to head back to Locust Street, not wanting to waste time to write this answer down. I pulled back and cut through the park south of the high school and jumped out onto the street, looking for the next stops crossroad. The first time racer caught up to me as I was partially waiting for him while trying to find the next stop. He shot past me and I asked him if he knew where the road was, he said it was further up and I understood what street he was talking about. We crossed the bridge and the next street we came across was the one we needed. I pulled out the manifest to look at the question and we began searching for the answer. We found it and I jotted it and the previous one down and scanned the list for the next stop, which was nearby.

We headed back down Locust and turned onto Humboldt on the wrong side. I hopped onto the sidewalk at the south end of Gordon Park and continued on through the darkness, hoping the shadow covered sidewalk wasn’t hiding any surprises. The next stop was the stretch of alley that was counted as the eastern most leg of Center Street, we pulled down it and headed to the last house to right down the answer. Once that was done I scanned the manifest and did a quick routing for the second half. Told him the path we would take to get to Bay View and took off down Humboldt.

I tucked as low as I could while heading south on Humboldt but I had swapped out my drop bars for a pair of risers I picked up in Tokyo when I returned home. I wasn’t able to get as low as I could normally but I tucked my elbows in and did the best I could. At the end of Humboldt I pulled right into a small stretch of road that runs behind some condos along the river which empties out onto a small stretch of bike path and the Marsupial Bridge. Across the bridge into the east side and then onto Water Street for a straight 3 or 4 mile stretch into Bay View. The timing with the lights and flow of traffic worked well and we barely had to slow through the entirety of downtown. As we pulled into the south side I checked the manifest again for the next closest stops. The next two were located on the same street. Incase one of the stops on the street were before the one we were headed two I motioned to the other racer that we would be pulling off of 1^st street and taking our target street instead. Little did I know that it was blocked off the block before Greenfield, out next stop, and we had to back track a block and come around to it the way we would have if we didn’t pull off of 1^st.

Turning down the cross street south of Greenfield we began searching the answer to our question only to find the answer to the second question on this stretch. Once that was taken care of we back tracked to Greenfield and continued east searching for the original question, which we found a few blocks later. With that the last 2 questions were located in Bay View it’s self and we headed back to 1^st street. The guy riding with me informed me that the bridge into Bay View was closed down so we took 2^nd street instead. Going as fast as I dared over the uneven and dangerous stretch of road I was relieved when we pulled off a few blocks later and headed to Bay Street.

I always enjoy riding Bay Street because it is nice and smooth…but because of it’s positioning it tends to be a wind tunnel at times, this time was no exception and the wind was at our backs aiding us towards our goals but threatened to hinder us on the return trip. I wasn’t exactly sure where the next two cross roads were but has an inkling to there where about. My inkling was correct and with in minutes we had both answers taken care of. After getting the final one I looked at the guy who I had been riding with for the race and told him it was now just a sprint back to the Door. We wished each other good luck and had the mutual understanding we were on our own from here to the end, that we had helped each other get here but that it was now an individual race.

I took off and pounded back west on Bay, crouching low to fight the brisk west wind. My relief from the wind wasn’t as sweet as it should have been when I pulled north onto 2^nd because I had to deal with the horrible road conditions once again. Because I got caught up in traffic as I neared 1^st the other racer caught up with me but once we got onto 1^st I pulled ahead and held my pace. That lasted until I got stalled again in the Third Ward. He passed me as I had to cut around a car and I didn’t catch up to him again until we passed under the freeway. I picked up the pace a little further to make sure I was clear of him to cut take the corner at Michigan and swung it wide, pulling onto the sidewalk. A quick scan didn’t produce Eric’s bike anywhere, which was a good sign. I jumped off the bike, dumping it to the sidewalk in front of the Door, fought off a cramp in my left calf and ran inside to check in. It looked like I was the first one back and judging from Flynn’s reaction as he saw me walk in added to that feeling. I headed to the table, signed my name in and turned in the manifest as I noticed the rookie behind me. I asked them if I was the first one in and they said I was. I turned around, locked up my bike and stretched out my sore legs before returning inside to find out I had won the race.

I sat down and got a beer from Flynn and a glass of water. Sat and waited for the race to end and for me to get paid for winning. About 20 minutes later all of the racers, with the exception of Jake had come in. Eric showed up after a while and said once he saw the manifest he decided he didn’t want to race since he had worked long and hard all day and figured he would waste time to make sure he didn’t win. Soon afterwards, with no sign of Jake and it being assumed something happened and he ended up just going home I took off and began to think about November’s race.

CMWC Tokyo Part 1

After arriving in Tokyo safely and getting my bike there for only $50 my friend Kijana met up with me at the airport and we took the extended train ride to his town. We had to transfer trains a few times which resulted in me shouldering the 70 pound bike case a few times instead of dealing with trying to get it down the escalators as we hoped between platforms. By the time I got it safely to his house my upper body had gotten a pretty good workout, I unpacked my bike and began assembling it right away only to find that the airlines had lost my nice 6mm hex wrench when they didn’t close the base all the way after looking into it. I also discovered that at some point in the transit my front wheel had come slightly out of true so I went about doing it the best I could without a stand…good thing I thought to bring a spoke wrench.

The first experience with riding in Japan would be following Kijana on his mountain bike to the air force base he works at. Per his suggestion I stuck to the sidewalks as we hit a busy road. I wasn’t ready or used to riding on the opposite side of the street so mildly took this as a good thing…that is until cars almost pulled out into me 2 times during the trip.

In Japan riding a bike on the sidewalk is encouraged, it isn’t to say that riding in the street is illegal, but the closest thing I could find that resembles a bike lane was actually just the sidewalk, which is marked with signs indicating so. The crosswalks have signs on them that say this is for bikes…which make one wonder where the pedestrians go. There are a lot of bikes in Japan and most are used to local errand running. The most common bike is what is known as the mama-chari (mom chariot) and it is a hulking urban utility vehicle of a bike, complete with full fenders, baskets, racks, electric lights…everything. Housewives, students and businessmen all use them to get around quickly on short distance trips and disregard every single convention of cycling safety…much the same was the rest of us do. The biggest difference is there relative low traveling speed and their complete lack of attention to their surroundings. It is a common sight to see someone on a mama-chari cruising down the wrong side of the street on a busy stretch of road texting and or drinking a soda, while this behavior is not unique to Japan it does make for more challenges on the road. After fuddling around on the base trying to get used to riding on the opposite side I told Kijana he could take the sidewalk if he wanted to but I felt much safer on the street and did just that on our way back to his house. This choice proved to be better and it was my first taste of Japanese motorists’ hesitation to get too close to a cyclist.

The first time on the road wasn’t enough to make me like or hate it so the next morning when I woke suddenly at 6am I took the opportunity to get out and ride for a bit. I quickly left the house and road out into the morning, photographing my progression in case I lost my way. At first my goal was to hit up a 24 hour Japanese fast food restaurant we had had dinner at the night before to get some early morning curry breakfast action going. Instead I continued on past the joint beckoned by the hypnotic call of Mr. Donut…I wasn’t stopping to get donuts; I just wanted to take a picture of the place. On the way I stopped at a convenience store for a hot green tea to help wake me up, much probably to the surprise of the attendants. Once that was downed I continued on my Mr. Donut journey only to almost pass it by with out realizing it. I took a photo as I biked by and continued for a little ways more, enjoying the time to my self.

After a bit further and realizing that the road stretched out into urban oblivion I decided to turn around and head back to the house, still thinking about breakfast. On the return trip I snapped a photo of the bike in front of a boutique called Snob, so that I could send it to the venerable BikeSnobNYC himself to add to his collection of Snob-style photogs. I also snapped a photo of a group of disaffectioned youth sitting on a street corner…wondering what the hell they were doing awake, let alone brooding at such an early hour on a Saturday. The smiled and threw peace signs at me as I rode by, obviously I was the beacon of light in their dreary angst filled day…or maybe not. As I approached Kijana's house I got a little lost and ran into another group of mopey teenagers and took a covert picture of them in all their posing glory. After a moment of panic when I thought I was lost I found the house but instead of stopping I continued on and headed to the nearby convenience store to get some cold soba noodles and more green tea.

I wasn’t able to get on the bike the rest of that day but did strike out to Tokyo via 1.5 hour train ride into western Tokyo. While there we made a diversion to Yoyogi Park and paid Meiji Shrine a visit and got lost in the private garden of Empress Meiji. After that we walked from there to Shibuya in order to find the building where the race registration was taking place so I could check in and get my information packet. As we walked down the street the occasional pack of people sporting messenger bags and track bikes flying by headed the way we were proved that we were on the right path. It took us a little bit of guessing and finagling but we stumbled upon the registration spot relatively unharmed. There were a few people gathered around the entrance and along the side of the building. As I neared a messenger I met on the flight named Baba from Philly showed up and I greeted him. Baba is originally from Japan but lives and works in the States. Friendly guy, good biker from what I heard and saw. He was a part of a 4 person crew from Fuji bike, cosponsored by ReLoad bags, which were there to kick ass.

We went in and I got in line to check in. After giving them the wrong race number I gave them the correct one and I was locked in to my events and handed my info. I stepped into the next line and had a few head shots taken. After I came back to the states I discovered the headshots were for cool photo ID’s for the race…too bad I missed out on getting that one, just one thing out of many that was missed…partially due to liquid communications between the staff and the racers. After browsing around the office and buying some goods we headed back out to the street. Not sure what to do I used my amazing power of coincidence and said to Kijana that I wish I could hook up with Kevin from Cog, when who happens to be rolling up the hill to the registration…Kevin from Cog. Completely blown away by the coincidence I happily greeted him. He pulled over next to some people, one of whom is John Prolly, one of the most notable American fixed trick riders, who unfortunately was in the process of icing a nasty looking ankle injury…guess he wasn’t going to be doing any stunt riding in the fixed stunt capitol.

After unsuccessfully trying to invite Kevin to some lunch Kijana and I took off to wander around Tokyo…seeing all the bikes around made me wish I had mine with me. The rest of the day was spent hopping around town getting reacquainted with the place and seeing what has changed. After that it was a long train ride back to Kijana’s town and off to try and unsuccessfully reconnect with everyone back home via the internets.