First Friday Alley Cat - November 09

November’s race was one I was not going to be taking part in as I had won Octobers and was putting on Novembers. At first I wasn’t sure what I was going to do but as October flew by I started to worry I wasn’t going to have a good race. Initially I had a basic idea of what to do but the last week of October had nothing more then that. So I finally took some time away from work and rode around town to solidify my game plan. I put all the stops together, felt confident in the questions and length and printed everything up. Still being a fan of having racers have to get the manifest instead of it being given to them at the start I employed a friend of mine to help me at the manifest pick up location.

The idea behind the route was stuff that related to my life, jobs, apartments, etc. The original idea was to have the manifest stuffed inside of a copy of the Journal and have my friend Pat hand those out. Then as the race started to solidify I changed my plan slightly. I had the manifests sealed in UPS envelopes with the address of the location Pat was stationed. The racers would still go out to meet Pat and get a copy of the paper but they would have their manifest the entire time and not even know it.

I also came up with another twist for this one as well, two different manifests. The manifests had the same exact stops just different questions at the stops. While this could be used to hinder people working together and splitting routes the idea was just to add a twist in and make it a little different. So with the final plans in place I was ready to throw the race.

After work on Friday I had to make a run to one of the stops and place a sticker at the stop that told the racers to call me, which added another twist to the race. This stop they had to write down what the sticker said on the manifest and then call me and I would give them a stop not on the manifest. The original idea was to have them meet up to finish the race at the parking lot of the Aurora clinic in Schlitz Park. Once everyone had shown up we would do a 10 lap race around the parking lot. The idea sprang about between Flynn and my self after I told him about an article in the recent issue of Cog that talked about a similar thing they do in Boston. I was worried about the logistics of doing the race at Aurora that early in the evening with their being customers/workers/security about and came up with a backup pick up instead.

I rode hard out to the sticker point, slapped it to the pole and headed back to the Door. I passed by Aurora, noticed a fair amount of activity and decided to scrap the plan to race there. One of these days we will try to do it but later in the evening and hopefully it will work, or we can find another location to race at too. I also scrapped it because I didn’t feel like riding from the bar back to Aurora to check on the lots activity level after the race started then go all the way back to the bar…I was going to be lazy.

I got to the bar to find Flynn conducting business outside as he was trying to help Julian deliver a package in the south side. We headed into the bar and I lit up a cigar I had bought earlier in the day, celebrate a little bit. After food and a few rounds of beer a few more people showed up including Matt who made a point to take off of work to race. He hadn’t raced since the summer and had been busy with school/work/wife to get out much so it was good to catch up with him. As start time approached I decided to call it with only 4 racers, 1 of which being Shaggy who I harassed into racing. As we piled outside I spotted a bike I recognized from work. The day before I attached a note telling him to come race and he decided to come out. So after a few years of seeing the fixie parked near mine I finally met its owner in a member of the newsroom named Ben. He arrived just as things were kicking off so he didn’t have time to gather his senses.

Everyone was gathered around and I handed out the UPS envelopes with the manifests sealed inside. I told them they needed to deliver the envelope to my friend Pat who was at the address written on the outside. Pat would then give them their manifests. I looked at the light on Michigan and Broadway which had just turned red and said that when it turns green it would be a go. Everyone got ready, I got antsy and decided to yell go and they took off heading for the East Side. I went back into the bar and handed out copies of the manifest to people inside who poured over them. The response was positive and when they found out there were two different sets of questions there was some approval for the race. Too bad more people weren’t able to do it.

I knew that it was going to be a small race, most of the people who had been racing lately were polo players and the weekend had them all in Columbus for the fall installment of the biannual Midwest Bike Polo Championships. 1 or more of the members of Cog Magazine were also in LA over the weekend and other people were generally not racing lately. The races have entered into a semi-dormant state as of late which is mildly depressing but I’m still going to show up each month and race or put one on if no one else is around to do so.

I continued to drink and socialize with everyone who stayed and waited for the phone calls to come in. The first one was from Pat at the first stop who wanted to reconfirm the number of racers as he had only seen 4. While I was reassuring him there were 5 the fifth one showed up. I told him to come down to the bar once he was done and I’d buy him a drink. Before he arrived at the bar I received 4 calls in a row from racers who had reached the call-in check point. The third call actually came while I was still on the 2^nd call. The stop I gave them was to pick up a take-out menu from Pizza Shuttle. I went back into the bar and waited for the 5^th call that never came. Instead Shaggy called me to tell me that the electronic sign needed for one of the stops was turned off. I told him to scratch that one.

Pat showed up, shots and beer was purchased and we waited for the racers to turn up. The first one through the door was Shaggy. He wasn’t able to get one of the items as all the locations he checked were empty. Coming in on his heals was Matt followed shortly by Chris. Shaggy had to leave and said to use his winnings if he took 1^st to buy people beers. I figured if he won I would get it to him next time I saw him. We sat and waited for the other two, 1 of which still had not called me. After about 15 minutes everyone told me to check the manifests that got handed in for the winner, I did so after relenting. As I checked them Ben from work showed up as well, now there was only one racer left. I checked through them and found that Matt was in the lead with Chris followed by Shaggy then Ben. Matt had one incorrect answer and Chris was missing his Pizza Shuttle menu as he had dumped it in a free newspaper box in haste to get the copy he needed. Technically since there was still a racer out on the ‘course’ the race was not over with. Chris bolted out of the bar to get his menu and try to take first. Matt caught on a bolted out to get the correct information for his missed answer.

Matt arrived back before Chris did, but barely and clenched 1^st place and most of the pot. Chris won a Dura-Ace hat and just as I was about to award Ben with DFL the final racer, the guy who took 2^nd last month, arrived to clench the $5 prize. After that more beer was had and the race was gone over. It was Ben’s first alley cat and he did the manifest in the order it was listed instead of geographically ordered. He knows better now. We talked about mistakes we have all made in races, such as my riding all the way to Shorewood to find out I was thinking of the wrong Chinese restaurant. I took off after a while to get home and relief Pat of his house sitting duties with the race left in Matt’s hands to organize for December and Saturday the 14^th’s Cranksgiving in my sights with hopes for 1^st in the A class and a swank prize cache.

Here is the list of the stop, each one had 2 sets of questions, 1 on each manifest.

2978 N. Bremen - old apartment

1841 N. Farwell - restaurant that shares it's name with my daughter

309 N. Water - contains a law firm that shares it's name with my son

1731A N. Franklin - old apartment

1118 N. 4th - parking structure for the Journal

2315 N Murry - restaurant I used to work at

3132 N. Downer - book store I used to work at

1731 N Arlington - bar I used to work at

Get a copy of 'Autotrader' or 'Employement Guide' - for fun

Plus the call in where they had to get a menu from Pizza Shuttle.

CMWC Tokyo Part 5 - Final

With the qualifying rounds over with it was time for the side events to take center stage. The qualifying rounds for the backward circles contest had already been going since earlier in the afternoon. Once the race was over the organizers asked everyone to help them move the barriers out of the road so they could open it back up to traffic and from there everyone headed back to the main ground. Once the barriers were cleared and everyone showed up and the backward circle prelims were finished they called everyone to a nice large open portion of the race course and using a cherry picker took a series of group photos. Insanity rained and there was soon a small piggyback jousting match followed by a shower of beer, Chu-hi and Redbull. The crowd dispersed again and the track stand competition began.

The track stand competition entailed being normally on the bike standing still with no feet on the ground for 2 minutes, then you had to take 1 hand off, then both hands then 1 foot then no feet. Each different level was held for 2 minutes. Due to the vast number of entrants into the contest they had to do 2 different groups. In the first group everyone I was near was going crazy over a guy who was track standing on his geared/freewheeled bike. He made it for a while but eventually lost out, still, skill to hold it on a freewheel for as long as he did. The contest lasted into the night and once it was done it was time of the final round of backward circles. I wasn’t too terribly interested in them so I wondered around a bit.

I ended up running into Jerome again and both decided to get some food from a vendor and chill on the ground. I didn’t realize how hungry I was until I demolished the half pizza I ordered, soon enough the smell of Indian bread got me to order some more food. I sat with Jerome and a photographer friend of his from New York during the entire backward circles finals and listening to their stories about bizarre and odd photo sessions. I had to part with them when I noticed that the team foot down was beginning. I headed off to the crowd gathered while putting the bracelet for the event on.

There was general confusion and Eli was trying to help get everything organized. The wristbands we were all given for kibasen (team foot down) had a letter on it. They were looking for everyone with letters A, B and C for the first round. I looked at mine and noticed it said A, tough being in the guinea pig group but whatever. I found 2 other teammates and we started taunting the other teams. More calls for teams A through C went out as everyone official urged the crowd to check their wrist bands and come forward as the 3 teams were painfully small. We ended up getting a fourth member and from there we had to figure out who would be designated the king. Each team had a king and it was marked on the wristband, we, unfortunately were without a ruler and decided it by rock paper scissors which made Eli giddy as he explained that’s pretty much how everything in Japan is decided. We picked our kind, I wasn’t it and C and B teams were evened out and had their king. They decided to start even though each team was short a few people and handed out funky headgear to help us all differentiate the different teams.

Foot down is normally played like thus: you get a group of people together and they all ride around in a circle. The last person on the bike, without having any part of their body hit the ground wins. You think, ok that’s easy and will take forever…there’s a few more rules. Think of foot down as bike demolition derby. The idea is to knock the other riders down using any means available without using your hands and feet, they have to remain on the bike. So you can use the rest of your body or the bike it’s self to knock anyone else down. Kibasen is the same basic idea but team based. This time the goal is last team standing and what determines that is the king. If you go down and you’re not the king our still out, but as long as the king remains the team does. So if your king goes down everyone else has to bow out as well, if you go down on your own you bow out.

They played 3 teams at a time until all teams had gone, from their they groups 3 winners against each other until there was one winner. It was fun for my first time doing any sort of foot down, I did my best to protect the king and stay upright but in the end my teams king went down and we lost our round. My tactic was more diversion for the king as opposed to taking people out, I tried to steer people away from him and it seemed to work until we got separated…oh well. I ended up watching much of the rest of the contest with a group of Chicago riders and they all began discussing how to port it to America and maybe start up a league…sounds fun.

After a while it began to get pretty late, it had been dark for a while and the events were dragging on. There was an after party where they were going to be listing the people who qualified. I wasn’t going to go because the party was on the other side of town, I didn’t feel like having to bike all the way back to the hostel and I had to get up super early the next day to check out and get everything set. I also didn’t think I qualified so I wasn’t worried about not knowing that information right away. I did on the other hand decide to leave with a large group of Chicago riders to Shinjuku where their hostel was. My thinking was I would leave my bike in Shinjuku so I wouldn’t have to spend as much money the next day coming back from Kijana’s.

I would have to leave the hostel as early as possible, grab all of my stuff, check out, train it to Kijana’s, drop my stuff off, head back to Tokyo, bike to the race grounds and enjoy the rest of the day with the race starting at 11. With me looking at least 3 hours of transit time to and from Kijana’s I would have to leave very early in the morning to get back to Tokyo with enough time for me to bike from Shinjuku to the race ground, on the other side of town, by the start. So I rode with the Chicago group and had a great time doing so. I was able to enjoy the weather, the road conditions and the sights as we rode all the way across the heart of the city. Nico seemed to be leading the pack and demonstrated his ungodly ability for direction in a foreign city, something that apparently helped him win 2^nd and first all around male at Boston a month earlier. Only one time did we have to backtrack, which only put us off by a few blocks, better then I had managed a few times getting lost.

Soon we were in Shinjuku and at their hostel. Augie gave me some directions to Shinjuku station and I took off to park my bike. The ride was short and easy yet filled with more merging traffic madness. I got turned around slightly near the station but quickly found it and locked my bike up. I noted the entrance I was at and headed inside to hop on a train to the hostel. The trip to the hostel was short and sweet and the walk from the station to the hostel its self made me wish I still had my bike, even though it was only 4 blocks. I went directly to my bunk, organized the best I could and passed out.

The first time I woke up it was still night out, I decide to continue sleeping as it was around 4 am. I woke up again at 6am on the dot and started to crank. I packed up the rest of the stuff I had, including the present I had picked up the night previously. Double checked the bunk and locker for anything left behind locked up and headed down stairs only to find the reception desk was closed and there was no noticeable way to check out. I had no choice at this point as I wasn’t sure what time they officially opened and left, now having to come back to the hostel before 11 and check out. I was not happy. I trudged to the station and waited endlessly for the first train. Almost 2 hours later I got off in Kijana’s town, and briskly walked to his house.

I quickly organized my pack for the day and the slight possibility of racing, took a brief shower and gave Kijana the info on how to get to the race grounds and took off, racing against the clock. I rode the train back to the hostel and checked in, pissed that all I had to do was leave them my key; not sign anything, nothing. I could have left the key on a nail on the plywood barrier they set up to block of the reception area after hours. I headed back to the train station and spent even more money to go back to Shinjuku to get my bike, cursing myself for not parking at the hostel instead…foresight is 20/20 they do say.

I found my bike after exiting yet another random exit at Shinjuku and walking around a ¼ of the station. Time to hustle to Odaiba back across town. This time I had a map and remembered part of the trip the night before with the Chicago crew. I took off, flying, pounding and blowing as many red lights as I could safely do. I overtook a group of Tokyoite fixed riders and found out they didn’t speak English, they were on their way to Odaiba and I was headed the correct way…my broken Japanese can come in handy in some instance. I didn’t have too much time for sight seeing but remember being in awe when I rolled past the grounds for the Diet building and thinking I should stop for a photo, but pushed that time wasting gesture out of my head. Soon after the Diet building I reached an intersection I thought we had hit the night before and headed the way I thought was correct. Soon enough though it didn’t look familiar and I stopped at a police box and with my Japanese skills and my map I worked with a police officer to help me figure out the general direction to at least get to Ginza.

I took off again after the cop wished me luck, climbed a significant incline and sped down the back side off it; passing traffic that was trying to get to some sort of freeway on-ramp…I love roads in Tokyo!!! I was once again on the correct course and recognized the area. Right before I came into Ginza I overcame the group of Tokyoites again and greeted them once more, much to their surprise as I had blown by them the first time. I pounded through Ginza, running into a Japanese racer and followed him. Before we entered the bridges that connect Odaiba another race enthusiast showed up. I greeted him too and he asked me if I went to Kyoto-loco. When I told him no he gave me a sticker for the event and I responded by handing hi8m 8^th inch stickers and info. We took off again and I was on the heels of the racer. I followed him as he diverted from the route I took the day before and we continued to roll I got worried that we had passed the grounds as all the signs were pointing us towards Haneda airport which was south of the race course. Many times I nervously debated pulling away from him and trying to find my own route until at last, what seemed like forever, we turned left and a block later came to the race grounds…this guy has a great route.

I showed up at 11:30, the race hadn’t started promptly, which is to be expected but it had been going for 15 minutes already. I strolled over to the official tent and scanned the qualifier board on the off chance I was on it. At first scan I didn’t find my name, which I wasn’t surprised about. Then I decided to scan it again more closely to see if I was on there and if anyone I knew was as well. Then I spotted it, I had made the list. I was dumbfounded and a little nervous. I wasn’t sure if I was ready to go out and race hard for 2 and a half hours doing crazy package deliveries with some of the best messengers in the world. I had no illusions about doing well, but I was curious to see how well I would do non-the less. Based upon the open time slot for the qualifier and the listing in the book for a large block of time for the race, I assumed I could just start when I was ready. I needed some guidance so I headed off to find Kevin and get some.

I figured it would be best to talk with him, get some advice, rest my weary legs for a minute and get some more fluids in me before racing. I soon found Kevin, who was busy photographing the racers and when I told him I qualified his reaction left me stunned. He said along the lines of that being unfortunate, not that I actually qualified but for the fact the race had already started and I wouldn’t be able to race. At that moment it came back to me that I knew the race had a set start time with a Le Mons start…I had showed up too late to actually race. I said oh well, I wasn’t sure I really felt like racing anyways and began to wander around the course with Drew. He suggested I try and see if they would let me start late and after a second round of suggesting this as we wandered the main lot I decided to. I headed over to the main tent and told them I had qualified but had showed up to late and missed the start and wanted to see if I could start late. The woman I talked to looked surprised and went to find a superior, who came back a little while later to tell me no. I said ok thanks and left, not fighting it. I probably should have fought it, saying I would take the time penalty, just to get in their an do it, race my ass off and see how well I could do, I had come all this way for this moment. Instead, I walked off, defeated and somewhat apathetic. The morning had been hectic and troublesome and was now compounded with the response of NO.

I told myself, I didn’t really want to race and wandered around the grounds, watching the race and eating and drinking water. I once again took up residence one the corner in front of the convenience store, much as everyone else did. Soon though I started to walk back and forth along the race course. as I came to the stair exit from the secondary parking lot one of the women from Chicago came off of the race course and threw in the towel. She was bleeding and visibly upset, I wasn’t sure at the time what had happened, but I found out later she dropped her chain as she started to sprint and crashed hard. From what I figure she decided that she had messed herself up enough to force her to quit. This scene made me start to think about what I was doing in Tokyo at CMWC, the fact that I had qualified for the finals and had been unable to compete due to messing around with trains and youth hostels. I started to think about how my taking that spot and ultimately not filling it had kept a hard working messenger who might not have gotten to Tokyo on the generosity of their friends and family, but who has scrapped together every damn penny they could to come and race from being in the finals. It made me feel like shit and I ended up wandering around, waiting for the finals to be over and the sprints to start so I could compete in the final event I was in and be done with it.

I was beat down at this point and wandered aimlessly, trying to look for Kijana, wandering through the crowd at random times. I even tried to call his cell phone but was not able to connect through it. The race went on, some exciting moments had taken place but ultimately I was done, I didn’t have it in me anymore and more than anything I longed to be home with my family.

After the final was over there was a bit of confusion as to what was going on. They called everyone who was entered into the skid contest to the main grounds and then they filled out onto the street. I took up a spot in the middle of the course and started snapping photos of the skids. First they gave everyone a few test runs, which caused two lanes of the street to be filled with an endless supply to people coasting elegantly (mostly) down the street as they tried to maintain balance and their rear wheel remaining locked. Then the qualifying started and all lanes opened up to speed up the process as 1 person per lane could go at a time. The officials marked with masking tape where each skid ended and by some arbitrary distance they narrowed down the final competitors. Unfortunately, from what I could tell, which was rather confusing, Drew who retains some form of internet infamy for a video of him crashing into an oblivious pedestrian during a skid comp in Milwaukee did not appear to make the final cut. I joked that he did well and I finally got to see him skid to his best with out fear of inattentive children.

When the skids were done the confusion only deepened and seemed to compound the lack of clear communication I had run into the entire time. I had heard no announcement on how the sprints would work and when/where they would start. Then I noticed a mass of people heading to the north end of the street with their bikes and decide to follow suit. I found that the sprints were about to begin and were seeding them 6 people at a time. I stripped my gear off and got in line. After a while of waiting I was next and forced a surprised Japanese guy to help hold me still. He didn’t do a good job and the bike leaned to the left while I leaned to the right to maintain a semblance of balance. My take off was rough and I pushed hard to make up lost ground. I over came a few people that had jumped before me but ended up getting in 3^rd at the finish line. I hopped off, got back into the crowd and walked back to get my gear.

I loaded back up and decided to head back to Akihabara to try and do more gift shopping, which I had failed to mostly do the entire trip due to time constraints. I had also not found Kijana and decided to give up hope and took off. The trip back into Ginza was somewhat melancholy and I only took a few more photos on my way. I was exhausted and ready to be back in Milwaukee. I stopped in Ginza when I noticed they had closed the street down again for pedestrians. I took the opportunity and decided to film the street, but that ended abruptly as a pedestrian decided to begin walking sideways as I went to ride around him and I ran into him. I hit him hard enough, even though I was going under 10mph to knock him over and knock me off of the bike. He fell, the bike fell and I landed safely with camera still in my hand. I noticed his glasses had fallen off and I feared I broke them, I asked him if he was ok and apologized profusely. I could entirely make out what he said in response after he said he was ok but I think he said something in regards to paying more attention to what I was doing…I apologized some more and left, internally laughing and shaking my head at the event.

I realized I needed to exchange the rest of my money and rode around Ginza to find a bank to do it at only to discover they were all still closed for this week of vacation that was going on. I headed to Akihabara, knowing that there was a shady currency exchange place near the train station I could use, even though they would rape me with the fee’s or exchange rate. I followed the train lines back into the neighborhood and quickly found the exchange place. I went in, was confirmed of it’s shadiness but had to deal because it was my last chance. I got my cash at a lower rate and hit the streets, locking my bike up, to do some last minute souvenir shopping. Once that was done I broke my bike down, wrapped it back up in the bed sheet and headed off for an eventful ride back to Kijana’s.

An hour and a half or so later I arrived, sore arms and general tiredness. I walked the bake to his house and found him not their. Oh well, he would show up eventually. I unpacked, hoped in the shower, ate the rest of my cereal and began to pack up for the trip home the next day. After an hour back at his house Kijana returned as well. He had gone down to the race ground and had stayed until the sprints were done. He had then headed to Akihabara to meet some friends, so at some point we probably would have run into each other. I told him how my day went and that I was happy to be going home and couldn’t wait until I actually got back into Chicago. After figuring out the best train route to take to get to the airport I turned in and woke up early in the morning. Kijana walked me to the station and I took off for a 3 hour trip to Narita. Then things fell slightly apart when I went to check in my luggage. The personnel there told me I needed to pay $380 to send my bike bake. I argued with them for over half an hour and they finally relented to let me get away with only paying the $50 I was told at O’Hare. The last hurdle was overcome and I headed to the plane. Unlike the trip there I was able to get a little sleep on the plane and it only dragged on a little. At O’Hare I ran into one of the Chicago messengers who told me they harassed him about shipping his bike too. He hadn’t been charged at all to go to Japan and they tried to hit him up for over $700 coming back home…sounds like a scam their running personally. Why is it that airlines charge up the ass for a bike in a box when they allow ski’s surfboards, golf clubs, etc for free? Both items are generally the same dimensions…what gives. I have talked with a number of other cyclists about this problem and there is a shared general consensus about this disparity towards traveling with a bike.

I made it home, to my relief and began to readjust. It seemed odd to not have a can of beer in my water bottle cage or to have to worry about pot holes and being buzzed by cars. The trip was educational, eye opening, fun and sobering at the same time. I regretted missing the finals, but that caused me to become more determined. There are things I wished I would have done better and events I should have really participated in, but all I can do know if remember what I messed up on this time for the next time. I need to make up for that FUBAR in the finals and plan to do so in 2010 with a number of larger messenger races. I’ll have to wait until at least 2011 to do CMWC again, which I want to do. Chicago didn’t win the bid, Warsaw did and I’m working on trying to get there with my wife to hang out with the worlds best messengers again and party in a foreign town. Hopefully Chicago will bid and win 2012, I heard they through one hell of a party last year for NACCC’s.

Until then and other major races I want to extend my deep thanks to everyone who helped get me to Tokyo, either through support emotionally or monetarily I am deeply indebted to all of you. In 2011 I might be asking for your help again to storm Poland, but we will see what that brings and what 2010 yields. There are some things in the works and plans for 5 major messenger events are taking shape for me to participate in. So stay posted for those and all the monthly races as well.

Thanks once again to everyone.

PS: Tina from Chicago, who took 1^st female and all around at Boston this year, took 3^rd at Tokyo…so fucking rock to her for that. Nico who took 2^nd and first male at Boston took 16^th at Tokyo so fucking rock to him. The Chicago crew was very cool and I hope I made some new friend with them and I can’t wait to race in their town. Also, the winner for the race was Hanazumi Juri, to upset raining champ Sino who took 2^nd on a messed up leg. I think if he would have been at the top of his game he would have won.

CMWC Tokyo Part 4

7am Tuesday morning found me feeling the effects of little sleep and too much alcohol. I woke up in my bunk at the hostel and felt like absolute garbage. I got up, organized my bag, rechecked my map for the route I plotted the night before and took off to hit the race grounds. I hadn’t though to fill my water bottle at the hostel and about 2 miles into the ride I had to stop and get water and some food to settle my stomach. I found a convenience store, bought water and a pack of soba noodles (these packs did me well and provided me with a lot of energy…nice stuff). Outside of the store I filled the water bottle, and then slammed the rest of the 2 litter bottle before taking off again.

As I rode along I came across 3 messengers from Germany who were trying to find their way to the race ground as well, I decided to tag with them for a while until we came to an intersection and I didn’t agree with the route they chose. I struck off down a different road then they did and soon found myself in Ginza on the road I was looking for. I had been biking for less then half an hour at this point and still felt utterly miserable. I turned east on the road and headed for the Bay. The first bridge I found I got nervous and hopped on the sidewalk. As I went I noticed that I had nothing to fear from traffic, even though it was moving faster, there was plenty of room for crazy scooter riders to cut around the cars, which meant plenty of room for a lone cyclist. I pulled onto the road at the other end of the bridge and kept going. A few bridges and scooter buzzing later and I was deep in the artificial islands of Tokyo Bay where I ran into 3 cyclists from Chicago that were taking a break and making sure their route was straight. I stopped, added my 2 cents to the check and we all took off. We decided to follow the monorail/train line overhead and pinpoint one specific station at which point we knew to turn south. The stations were easiest to follow because they were clearly marked on the maps we had and in real life, unlike many of the roads…some of which have no names.

We rode a few minutes and found the station then took the right and were on target. Ten minutes of uneventful and smooth, flat roads and we hit the north end of the race zone. You could tell because the parking lot to our left was cordoned off with the ‘street ways’ and someone was inflating a large Redbull balloon. I know my spirits lifted knowing we had found it but I still felt physically ill. I kept telling myself I was probably going to throw up at some point during the race. We rode down the next intersection and pulled onto the sidewalk to enter the other portion of the course located in a parking lot to the south. Here were all of the vender stalls and the start point of the race plus rows and rows of bike parking. I hoped off of my bike and wandered around breezing by the stalls, not interested in their contents at the moment and tried to figure out how to waste the next couple of hours before the race actually started.

So here I was, at the race ground, ready to do what I came to do. Waiting it out in the sun as the race course was set in two parking lots and a stretch of road. I started to regret not replacing the sunscreen the safety officials at O’Hare had thrown out because it was a container larger than 3 ounces. I saw a few people rolling through the race course so I figured I would try it out too. I hoped on the bike and entered the course with out any trouble. Made my way to the second parking lot and was stopped by a guard. I complied with his wild hand gestures and broken English and rode back to the other parking lot, hoped off the bike and continued to wander around the grounds aimlessly with bike in tow. After I while I headed to a convenience store located on the south end of the road portion of the course, bought some more water and a small rice ball to help settle my stomach.

Returning to the grounds I sat down to eat rest and study the map of the course, trying to memorize the stop names and the routes it took to get between them. More and more people started to gather and soon announcements were being made over the loudspeaker in English. By 11 they announced the course was open for test rides and I joined everyone else it checking it out properly. Still feeling like garbage I listlessly rode the course 3 times, trying different pathways and to get a sense of the time it would take to cover it one time before I decided it was time to get back to settling my stomach, fearing I would hurl while racing. Again I wandered around to all of the vendor stalls, to do something other than nothing to waste time even though I still had no interest in what the vendors were selling. Then, to end all of the waiting the qualifying round started. A large line formed at the entrance to the course as everyone waited to get their start. About 10 minutes later I decided to hop in line and just get the race over with. I didn’t want to miss any of the side contests that were scheduled to go on during the qualifying rounds either.

I got in line, maybe about 30 people deep at this point and waited, studying the map and calming my nerves and nausea. The line moved quickly and in a few minutes I was at the start table getting my packet. The jotted down the start time and I was off.

I followed suit and stopped just after the table and pulled out all of my order tags, it would be best I figured to figure out the routing as best as possible before hand. I took into consideration the route I would be taking to pick up and drop off the packages. Each tag had its pick up and drop off location as well as the time limit for the stops. There was 1 5 minute stop and I routed that one about half way in the stack and used it as the midpoint marker. I got the first half pretty solidly planned out and semi organized the 2^nd half. I had an hour and a half to deliver all 10 tags. The faster you got them done the better and if you burned any of them you were screwed. I felt mildly confident with the order and the route, I put the map in my right cargo pocket, where manifests usually reside, threw the tags in my bag and took off for the first location, the closest stop.

The first stop brought me to the Adidas tent. I dropped my bike in the designated spot and swung my bag around as I neared the tent. There were 2 lines, drop off and pick up. I pulled the tags out to make sure everything was correct and handed it in at the drop off. They told me I needed to write my name and race number on it. I stepped aside so as not to impede a racer who had his shit together and wrote my info down hastily with the pen I had stuck in my hat. I handed back the tag, they marked my time and handed me the package with the bottom 2 tags stuck to it. I thanked them and headed off to collect my bike while wrestling with my bag to get the shoe box they gave me inside of it. This was my biggest concern, trouble handling the actual packages but I managed to do it anyways, hoping they didn’t doc me points for ugly tags. I secured my bag into place, grabbed my bike and took off, headed for another pick up. I pulled out the manifest to check my route and to make sure I was situated properly.

Being on the course with the race underway did wonders to clear my ill feelings, my head was clear and the stomach was settled, it was time for me to ride my ass off. I swung onto the street which they had cordoned off in a tricky and tight weave of lanes made from metal barriers. The lanes were comprised of a few wicked switch backs to both make for the most challenge and the most distance. The next checkpoint I came across was after the first switch back and one I didn’t need so while slowing down, watching for anyone else taking the lane, I swung around the corner, sprinted down the short lane, slowed turned another corner and was headed my original direction again towards the next pick up check point I needed, which resided at the far north end of the street lanes. This checkpoint was one where we had to lock our bikes up. I hoped off and quickly locked mine to one of the metal barriers used to stop you from biking all the way to the tent. I walked to the tent as I pulled the tags out of my bag to double check their accuracy. I filled out the tag while in line, handed it in and threw the envelope into my bag.

My next stop was to drop off the first package I picked up, I ran to the bike unlocked it and took off, making sure not to run into anyone who was taking the final north facing switchback or anyone slowing down to hit the stop I was leaving. I slowed down for the next turn that led me into the other parking lot and hopped my front wheel over the small incline leading to the driveway. The only thing that I found in Japan that annoyed me when it comes to their streets and biking is that sidewalk/driveway ramps are not flush with the road its self. Instead they have a small curb, maybe an inch or so high, which really isn’t anything to worry about in terns of ramming your tire into at full speed but I still worry non-the-less. I pulled into the parking lot and took the outside path only to realize a few seconds too late that I should have taken the inside one. Now I had to go all the way around to the north-eastern most corner of the lot and then back and forth on a switch back to get to essentially the same point if I would have taken the inside pathway…mistake number one.

As I rounded by the stop before the switchback I wondered what anyone paying attention to me was thinking as I didn’t stop at the tent and began sprinting back up the lane. I pushed that out of my head and slowed down considerably at the switch back, noting the skid marks and wondering how many this corner would accrue by the end of the race tomorrow. Once around the corner I stood up and sprinted again, already feeling winded from the over and unneeded exertions. I rounded out back to where I was originally supposed to be and followed the pathway to my drop off. I dumped the bike and ran to the tent, undoing my bag to pull the package out. I dropped it off, at which point they signed the drop off time took off the middle layer of the tag and handed that back to me. I stuffed it into the plastic sleeve I was handed at the start of the race and got into the pick up line to get my package from this stop. Once I had that I placed it in the bag, strapped myself down and took off. I followed the course back out to the normal entrance and was once again out on the street portion of the course. I was now on the longest straightaway of the course and took off to try and make up for time lost. I pounded down the block or so stretch of open straight course and slowed down to make the next hairpin switch back. A crowd had started to gather at this turn, which was where the convenience store was located. I also noticed Jerome has parked himself momentarily at this turn as well to get action shots.

I made the turn, stood up and tried to gain my momentum again before the next switch back, slowed down and did it all over again. Came back down to the end of the lane, slowed down, made one more switchback, sprinted a short distance and turned left to find myself back into the main parking lot. I pulled out my map and studied it trying to make sure I went the correct path as I rounded the outside of the course. I hoped that my memory served me correct and the next stop I had in mind was the correct one. As I rode around I spotted Drew from Chicago and shouted out to him to see if the path I was thinking was the correct one, he affirmed my assumption and I took kept going, only slightly relieved. This would be a major deciding point in my mind if I missed this stop from choosing the wrong pathway. In order to deliver the package I would have to swing around again, using lanes they set up in the switchback series on the road to alleviate the need to go through the other parking lot to get back on course. I could do it, but it would take time out and throw a wrench in my routing plans. So as I made the upper corner and selected the pathway I thought would take me to the checkpoint I needed I was only partially relived when I saw I had chosen the correct path. Now the nagging feeling that I had the wrong stop in mind remained. This stop was also a lock point and I jumped off the bike, leaned it against the gate and forgot to lock it.

I pulled out the package, feeling immense relief when the drop off was correct and handed it in. I handed it in, got my time stamp and took off. I hadn’t routed the pick up from this location yet and took off only realizing that I never locked my bike and that they never stopped me about it once I was taking off from the stop. I sped off to the next pick up location which was located near the first stop I did. I swung around and came up the pathway to the start/finish. I remembered Eli yelling at someone wondering what they were doing as they swung around the top of the course instead of taking the cut through before the start/stop and remembered not to do the same thing. I swung around and was back on the start of the course headed to the next pick up.

The rest of the race was and still is mostly a blur. I started to phase out everything but the road in front of me and my mental map of the course. In my second loop I had to take the alternate way out of the northern parking lot which led you to a short staircase you had to climb and then empty out on the long straightaway. This was a fun little addition to the mess and made for some semi-dangerous situations as you tried to mount your bike as quickly as possible while people had already begun to sprint down the lane from the parking lots real exit. I ended up dropping my map on the straight away the second time through and had to rely on my mental map for the rest of the race. It actually seemed that I made better time going off of memory than off of the map. After I finished the race I noticed that a lot of people had taped the race course map to their stem…nice idea, I’ll have to keep that in mind for future map based races.

The other portion of the race I remember clearly is when I did the 5 minute stop. The pick up was located at the TKBMA checkpoint at the far northeast end of the north parking lot. You had to then deliver it to the Adidas checkpoint, which was the first one I hit. The TKBMA tent was located right before the switchback in that parking lot that I accidentally took the first time through when I didn’t have to. I hit the pick up with nothing else in my bag. I grabbed it and threw it in and took off. On my way around to exit the parking lot I considered stopping at the Guatemala CMWC checkpoint which was just before the pathway to the stair exit, but decided, wisely, against it. I knew I would be able to make it in 5 minutes to my stop; I had by this point gone around the course a few times and knew the exact route I needed to take. I cruised past the stop, hopped off the bike at the last instant before the stairs, shouldered it and ran 2 steps at a time. I jumped onto the saddle as soon as it hit the street and took off, tucking low and sprinting in the saddle.

I negotiated my way through the mess of hairpin switchbacks, sprinting out of each one only to slow down to a crawl at the next turn. The crowd at the corner had grown and gotten loud, which was awesome. I pulled into the starting parking lot and bypassed the left side stops and shot straight for the shortcut before the start/stop. I swung around and did a seated sprint to round out to the stop. I dumped the bike and ran to the drop off, unbuckling my bag and pulling out the package. By this point I had tangled up my strap in the quick release and it wouldn’t release all the way. When I first noticed it I figured I would cope and fix it after I got done racing. I handed the package in and felt a wave of relief and tension as they marked 5 minutes down on my tag. I had just made it. By this point I had stopped caring what condition the final tags where in and threw the new one in with the rest while pawing through the remaining few to find the next closest stop.

The last 3 or 4 stops went by quickly and I felt exhilarated as I pounded down the final stretch to the end point. I leaned my bike against the fence and ran to the check in point at which time some minor confusion ensued as first I went to the wrong portion of the table. I moved over to the first part were a woman was sitting and handed her my stuff, she motioned towards the staplers in front of us and the first woman I tried to turn my stuff into told me to staple my tags together. Apparently the second woman was just there to make sure people know how to use a stapler, because she didn’t received the tags. I tried to smooth them out as best as possible, stamped it once, thought for a second to double check they were all there, decided against it and put them in the sleeve. I then moved back to woman one while doing this and she took the sleeve and noted my time down in her log. Just over 1 hour complete, all tags delivered on time. I was relieved and tired. I had pushed myself pretty hard but felt satisfied with my results, even if I had made two mistakes; the first of which was taking the wrong route the first time through the 2^nd parking lot and the second mistake was petty much that same route, but this time I didn’t take it when I should have. At that point I made a minor adjustment to my routing to try and make up for it the best I could. That stop luckily was a 30 minute one so there was no fear of burning that tag. I left the area, hopped on my bike and rode to the convenience store and the corner to join everyone else in cheering on the rest of the racers.

In a normal situation I would have purchased a beer along with my water and food, but now that the race was finished I reverted somewhat to feeling like garbage from partying the night before. When I arrived at the corner things were starting to heat up and the crowd would go wild every time someone skidded into the turn or wiped out. I mingled through out the race course, talking with a few people and meeting up with the messengers from Amsterdam and found out neither of them raced, they just weren’t feeling it. They also reminded me that they were staying in Japan for another month to do a bike tour around the country.

The rest of the day’s events will come in the next posting.

2010 NACCC's

After a month of trying to find out where the 2010 North American Cycle Courier Championship (NACCC) will be held I was finally privy to it via a post online by one of the Chicago messengers. The initial idea was that it was either going to be in Atlanta or Austin, either one being a viable option (although I was more open to Atlanta because it just 'seems' closer).

Well, after checking out the website not only do I now know it is going to be in Atlanta, I also know it is going to be October 8th through the 11th. Aside from that there is no information, which is understandable as this is almost a year away. I have a sinking suspicion that they are going to incorporate some track racing as well since the Dick Lane Velodrome is located in Atlanta. Looks like it's time to start planning logistically for a trip to Atlanta!!

The website can be found here, but offers little information at the present time and probably won't be more updated until the event approaches.

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.