I have one. So might you. You see them alongside the bodies of those who roam the streets of the East Village, the West Village, Uptown, Downtown, Midtown, Williamsburg, Park Slope and Astoria. Why do we have them, wear them, and take them wherever we go? The messenger bag. Ta Da...

I have a confession: I do not believe that I am messenger nor do I think I have a message.

There are many messengers roaming the streets on bike and foot who use the messenger bag to deliver packages and letters swiftly through the crowded Manhattan streets during mid-day traffic and chaos. Who are all these other non-messenger people, like myself, who own and use these messenger bags? How did these bags get so popular?

When I was in college, I had a traditional backpack. It was handy and rather simple and had a great deal of use value. When I was not on my way to work or school, I would never carry any kind of bag, because I had nothing to carry. A few years ago, I bought an almost-messenger bag (more of a leather briefcase in a somewhat messenger-bag-style). Eventually I went out and bought "The Canvas Messenger Bag." I carry the bag wherever I go. This morning I looked in the bag to see what was in it; to see what I carried around this city and needed so badly. I had a pack of Tic Tacs, a book, and deodorant stick.

What does this bag represent that I feel the need to carry it with me wherever I go? Does it make me feel that I have somewhere to go and I am in a hurry (I am a New Yorker and I have a messenger bag because I have important things and I need to get somewhere in a hurry)? Does it make me feel like the reckless messengers who weave through traffic, with little fear of taxis and road rage? Does it make me feel that I am working class, an urban-industrial type, a hardy guy who really knows what portage is all about and can tell you many stories which occured while wearing Dickies? Or does it make me feel like I fit into the East Village neighborhood where I work and I do not otherwise know why I carry the bag ?

Today, when I leave my apartment and travel through the subways to meet a friend at an all-you-can-eat Indian buffet, I will not carry my messenger bag. It will be difficult, though. I will feel somewhat naked and unprepared. Although breath mints and deodorant are sometimes necessary after an all-you-can-eat Indian buffet, I will take my chances this time around. Cold Turkey and aloo goobi.

Maybe I am alone in this struggle. Honestly, I have always been out of step with the times and my environment. I am the type of guy to always say the wrong thing at the wrong time, to break out gay porn when it just was not necessary. Maybe everyone else actually has a message in their bags. Maybe they are all messengers, like Mercury or a divine prophet. I am the lone phony.

Readers, do me a favor: the next time you see a person on the street with one of these fine bags, approach them and ask them:

"What is your message?"

Or

"Do you have a message for me?"

Please E-mail the responses you receive from them to moonlight@pindeldyboz.com. You may also include a subjective account of your approach and their reaction.

Here is hypothetical entry:

I was on the Downtown N train heading for 8th Street, when out of the corner of my eye, sitting in the disabled/elderly priority seats, I saw a young lad with a Manhattan Portage messenger bag. Slowly, so as not to raise any suspicions, I moved towards him, inconspicuously and quietly crawling on the floor of the train, with coins being thrown at me from above. Then, finally, when within a few feet of him, I lunged foward and accosted him. I threw my body across him, and let my sweaty body drag down his own, until my mouth was at his feet. I began to yell, "Tell me O PROPHET, what is your message! Tell me! Tell me the word! Raise my soul from the depths of this earthly..." Before I could finish, the messenger bag slammed against the side of my face followed by the fist of the messenger against my jaw. I heard screaming and I saw the flames. Needless to say, I did not make it to 8th street nor did I get the whole gist of the man's message. [Remember, this is only an example]

Maybe we can learn more about the messenger bag or maybe we learn of some sublime and hallowed message carried by hipsters throughout this city.