I was slogging my way through grad school with no real goal in mind. Most of my friends were trying to line up internships for the summer or some form of "meaningful" employment. I was not so inclined. Instead I took a job as a bike messenger. OK, with the Internet and overnight delivery services this was a career headed for extinction.
My job as a bike messenger was to pick up an "urgent" parcel for an office and deliver it to another office; usually only a few blocks away. Sometimes I had to return a receipt to the originator. Learning the ropes was not difficult. We worked mostly in the downtown area and the streets are laid out in a grid; north-south / east-west. Given an address I could quickly find the pick-up and destination. If I couldn't find it, I did carry a book of maps. The job was unsophisticated, minimally challenging and somewhat mindless; however I enjoyed it.
Late afternoons were my favorite time. Traffic was heaviest and the parcel always needed to be delivered before the close of business. It was daring and exciting as I dodged pedestrians and vehicles to insure the critical documents were delivered in time; the modern day pony express.
So, when I got the call a little past 5:00 PM to deliver an urgent package, I sprang into the saddle and raced to the office of a large law firm. The receptionist stressed the critical nature of the document and that it "must" be signed for that day. She stressed they were "keeping the office open just for these papers". To add to the urgency, the recipient was a small law firm located about 3 miles north of the downtown area. I was familiar with the area. It had been a neighborhood of elegant townhomes years ago but now was divided into a mix of condominium, apartments and professional offices.
I picked up the package, confirmed the addresses and promised to deliver it in time. The rush hour traffic was exceedingly heavy and several cross streets impeded my progress. Stop signs and street lights I usually ignored, and irate drivers I usually greeted with a favorite obscene gesture. The 3 miles lay in my wake as I arrived at the address of my destination several minutes before 6:00. I chained my bike and checked the addresses once more and headed for the office.
I entered the building with the address and proceeded to suite 200. The lettering on the door did not match the recipient's name. I was not too concerned about this since several of these small firms share office space.
The door was locked so I knocked firmly on the glass. A short 40ish woman with light red hair wearing a white blouse and brown skirt emerged from a back office to answer the door.
