I copy your copy Feb02


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I copy your copy

People assume that anyone who’s been a messenger for as long as I have must love riding bikes above all else.  This is not necessarily true in my case–while I certainly enjoy biking more than your average bear, there are arguably greater joys in life that could be translated into various full-time jobs.  Foreman at the boner joke factory?  Marvel Universe: Civil War re-enactor?  Werewolf bounty hunter?  Satisfying career options are endless in this town, which makes my decision to stick with a low-paying, dangerous field like bike messengering so seemingly inexplicable.  This business is not just about the bike, though, there’s so much more out there to love about the courier industry.  For instance, the RADIO.

Yes, the radio.  While many of my colleagues seem to have been initially attracted to the messenger world after witnessing the fast-paced showmanship of Kevin Bacon in Quicksilver, I was lured in by the opportunity to “copy” the “copy” of others, and professionally use “10″ codes with other enthusiasts.  This earnest love of occupational lingo and specialized language could have just as easily led to a career as a short order cook at Waffle House (“give me an Adam and Eve on a raft and wreck ‘em!”), but instead, somehow, I got mixed up in bikes.  Rose City Messenger, the greatest messenger company of all time and conveniently, my employer, has developed enough distinct radio lingo that a sort of pidgin language has evolved, indescribable to outsiders.  I don’t want to give away any of our trade secrets here, though, so instead allow me to introduce you to a few NEW terms that I think are really gonna make a big impression in 2009.  If you love occupational lingo as much as I do, you’ll do your best to get these onto the radio waves.
Top three bike messenger slang terms that have yet to catch on:

Admittedly a rare occurrence on the streets of downtown Portland, getting “Deloored” refers to the disconcerting process of being “doored” by a DeLorean, and the resultant painfully-slow deposit of one’s immobile form onto the hood of the vehicle.  Equal parts aggravating, unexpected, and amusing, the result is complete flux-incapacitation.

Coined by the esteemed Dawn Riddle circa 2003, the “intimiskid” is a shockingly popular trend among urban, male track-bike enthusiasts ages 18-40.  This portmanteau term, identical in both noun and verb forms, refers to the phenomenon of using an elongated fixed-gear skid in order to rapidly encroach on the personal space of a bewildered target before coming to a sudden, unexpected stop once the threat of collision appears imminent.  Occasionally accompanied by a proudly declarative “WHAT” (used as a confrontational statement in this context and not, more traditionally, as a question), the intimiskid is meant to strike a mixture of fear and attraction in the intended victim.  As a flirting technique, it’s nigh irresistible.

This term provides a counterpoint to the “Super-rush”, an oft-derisive moniker used to describe a fakenger or rookie who rides like a maniac in order to feign the appearance of pulling as many 15-minute super-rush tags as humanly possible.  Your average “8 Hour Next-Day” serves as a necessary foil to this balls-out approach, recognizing that Portland’s short blocks and reduced traffic speeds are more conducive to a slow, meandering pace.  The package’ll get there when it gets there, and in the meantime, there are more important things to worry about.  Like maintaining a perfect safety record, holding down high scores at Ground Kontrol, and collecting all the discarded gloves downtown.  Long live the 8HND!

So, there you have it–the first installment in what will hopefully become a series of exciting messenger neologisms.  Please join me in my efforts to popularize these far and wide throughout the land, and let me know if you have any you think should be added.

Is that a 10-4 or is someone walking on me?