Featherhead

Got time for a little Sunday reading? Here’s a great piece of writing from 1997. Featherhead is a former bike messenger who’s serving time on drug charges.

I came to Washington about the same time as Ronald Reagan. He had a vision. I had five bucks and a bicycle. I got a job riding a bike all day, which was like paying a monkey for climbing a tree. I had found my Shangri-La.

For years, I rode through the city as if I owned it. As a lark one day, I festooned my helmet with ostrich feathers, purple, pink, and blue. I added peacock feathers for a touch of green, plumage fluttering in the breeze to express my glee. It was a big success. A TV show did a story on couriers featuring my helmet. Regardies magazine later did the same. I was famous in a small and satisfying way, which is to say, on my own terms.

Like any good American, I used my notoriety to cash in. I was already peddling passports, plane tickets, press photos, etc., as an adjunct to my courier enterprise, so I took it a step further and started slinging acid—that’s LSD to you GS-7s. Couriers would spot the feathers and give chase from blocks away.

Washington City Paper, Issue of Mar. 21 – 27, 1997. Link courtesy of Gwadzilla.