Washington Post

December 16^th, 2001

Travelling Messengers

NEW YORK, 9:54 A.M. – At the appointed time, wearing a nondescript dark suit, I entered JFK Airport's Terminal 1. I had been told to bring nothing but my passport and a single small bag -- size: no larger than 9 by 14 by 22 inches; color: unspecified.

At exactly 10 a.m., I approached first-class check-in at the Japan Airlines ticket counter. The agent looked up. A foreigner. As instructed, I said the following: "Jupiter."

She sized me up, glanced around. "He's not here yet. Wait over there. I'll tell them you're here."

I waited. Peered over the top of the newspaper. Scanned the crowd. Tried to blend in.

Forty minutes later, the agent beckoned me. "Here he comes."

Was it my imagination, or did she looked a little scared?

It was my imagination.

"How ya doin'," boomed a friendly New Yorker with a harried expression and an armful of papers. "You the courier? Great. I'm Dennis from Jupiter Air. Just hang on a sec and I'll get you all set up."

He disappeared behind the JAL counter, where the Japanese airline agents seemed to know him well, and went into the back. A few minutes later he came out with a Mylar pouch and great handful of those peel-off bar-code strips they strap onto your checked bags. He must have had 40 of them.

"This is yours," he said, holding out the pouch. "Nothing illegal, as you can see."

See what? It's a bunch of papers. They could be murder contracts. Is this paperwork for the Mob?

"These are the claims for the cargo," Dennis said. "You'll turn them over to the Jupiter representative in Tokyo before you get on the Hong Kong flight."

"What is it?" I asked. "The cargo, I mean."

He shrugged. "A lot of boxes. Usually it's documents, low-value samples, things like that."

He handed me the bag. "This is your sole responsibility. We'll get the boxes checked and Jupiter agents will handle customs in Tokyo and Hong Kong. You got your instruction sheet? Just follow the instructions and you'll be fine. Have a nice trip."

He turned back. "And. Don't. Get. Bumped."

Bumped? He rushed off to a van idling in the loading zone. Presumably he meant "bumped" as in from the flight. Not bumped as in, you know . . . off. Sigh. There still was much I didn't know about flying as an air courier. But so far so good. I headed for the gate.

TOKYO, 4:35 P.M. (ONE DAY LATER)

The 13-hour flight to Tokyo's Narita Airport was less than three-quarters full, and, as seasoned travelers know, the lie-down potential of three seats in coach is better than one in first class. Relatively rested after two movies, the third Harry Potter book and a seven-hour snooze, I reviewed my printed, detailed instructions as we taxied in. They involved a rendezvous with a Jupiter rep in the transit lounge. We parked, I dutifully affixed the gaudy Jupiter sticker on my lapel and was promptly stopped by a JAL agent looking for me on the ramp. She said that since my flight was late getting in and time was short for my connection, she had been dispatched to relieve me of the Jupiter pouch right here at the door of the plane.

Wow. Not only had Jupiter made every meeting, it had adjusted to a flight delay and gotten airline staff to smooth the transfer. That was it. The next segment was a "dead leg" -- no cargo at all, but I still had to be in Hong Kong to escort a load back. I made my connection, and six hours later was having a midnight lunch in Hong Kong with three days to kill before repeating the whole process in reverse. I was halfway through my $200, five-day odyssey to China and back as a bag man for . . . purveyors of low-value samples.

You remember courier flights. In college, they were right up there with drive-away car deliveries and long-haul hitchhiking as the savvy ways in which other people were seeing the world for next to nothing. Little in the mythology of cheap travel carried as much allure as the stories of "this guy I know" who got a free flight to India just for handcuffing a briefcase to his wrist and making a handoff at the Bombay airport.

Well, the stories were true. Partly. Once a upon a time, a relatively small number of people did regularly score free or nearly free flights as air couriers in the service of law firms and factories that didn't have many ways of getting their deeds, drafts and cogs around the world on short notice. (Probably no handcuffs, though.)

Today, things are a bit different. Courier travel is still around, but it has morphed into something more institutionalized, more scheduled and less free. Jaw-dropping bargains still pop up (more about that in a minute), but today, you're likely to find middling deals like Washington to London for $370 or Miami to Quito for $260. Not bad, of course, but not much better than other air discounters right now, and not nearly as good as Bombay for nothing.

"It's pretty rare to see actual free flights these days," said Bruce Causey, president of the International Association of Air Travel Couriers (IAATC), a sort of broker between courier companies and would-be couriers. "Back then, very few people knew about it, a lot of it was lastminute and a lot of it was free. But as more people found out about it and demand grew, the courier companies got greedy. They realized they didn't have to discount the ticket as much and someone would still pay it."

Here in the Travel section, we get a lot of questions about courier flights. And I had a few myself. For example, when the gate agent asks, "Did you pack your own bags today?" what do you say? "Yes, except for the 40 cartons with my name on them in the cargo hold filled with human heads for all I know"? Would I have to wrangle a thousand-pound shrink-wrapped plutonium converter onto one of those rent-a-carts and explain my own way through customs? Would I be asked to stash a balloon filled with opium anywhere on -- or in -- my person?

And so a few months ago, after paying $45 to IAATC for a laminated membership card and a secret Internet password, I stepped into the hidden parallel universe of courier travel. The laminated card was nice, but that secret password was a doozy. Twice a day, at www.courier.org, IAATC compiles and updates a route list of legitimate, active courier companies here and abroad and the current fares offered by each. For weeks I browsed the list every few days, unmoved by most of what I saw. The exception was a daily run from New York to Mexico City for $50, eight-day stay required. While I dithered, the deal climbed to $150, then disappeared completely.

"They're changing all the time," said Causey. "In fact, since Sept. 11, we've had three companies flying New York to South America cease operations altogether."

Chastened, when New YorktoHong Kong popped up for $200, I knew what to do. I called Jupiter, the courier company, and told the agent I was an IAATC member and hoped to get one of the available dates. Oct. 31 was open, about six weeks off. She was a bit surprised that I wanted the earliest possible return -- three days later -- but she booked it and told me to send $200 plus a $27 "fee" by money order.

I was in.

The agent mailed a photocopied sheet of instructions on what to do and where to go at each step of the trip. I was to start at JFK, bringing my passport and one carry-on bag. I would be allowed no checked luggage in either direction.

To a courier company, you are your baggage allotment. The reason is time. Standard air cargo has to arrive at the airport several hours before flight time and, worse, it may sit in a warehouse for days waiting to clear customs on the other end. Passenger baggage, on the other hand -- be it a Louis Vuitton valise or a carton of spare parts -- can be zipped from the curb into the belly of the jet scant minutes before takeoff. Likewise, after landing, those bags are the first to be unloaded and presented to customs.

But to gain passenger privileges for their boxes, of course, cargo companies need a passenger. So they purchase bundles of tickets on certain routes (usually at full fare, for maximum flexibility), negotiate special rates on excess baggage fees and then "hire" someone to sit in the seat by selling the ticket at a discount.

"They just need you there to make sure the cargo isn't bumped," said Byron Lutz, the recently retired co-founder of IAATC. "Regular cargo is often bumped. It's much less likely they will bump a courier. All they really require is that you be there and alive at takeoff. It doesn't matter if you're alive at landing."

HONG KONG, 11 A.M. (THREE DAYS LATER)

Of course, if you do arrive alive, you find yourself at the far end of an international flight with money to spare and not many clothes. In my case, that meant a pleasant three-day lark in Hong Kong, a city I'd never visited.

Couriers have absolutely no duties between flights, so it was with a clear but jet-lagged conscience that I ate dim sum, rode the ferries, saw one really big Buddha and was simultaneously mesmerized and repulsed by the unbridled mercantilism of the world's most commercial city. With help from a review-intensive Internet site called Asia-hotels.com, I found a well-located, comfortable pantry of a room at the Evergreen in Kowloon. With a $50-a-night hotel and a $200 flight, I felt financially free to stretch out a bit on food at the venerable Peninsula Hotel and have a suit made to order in 24 hours at the famous Sam the Tailor. An international courier, I reckoned, should wear shirts that fit and jackets that kill.

My carry-on bulged, but I looked fabulous as I waited to meet my Jupiter contact at the Hong Kong airport on the morning of my flight back to Tokyo. This one was young, without much English, but we pantomimed our way through check in. And when the ticket agent asked me the "pack-your-own-bags" question, all I had to do was point to my Jupiter badge and he sent me right through.

"Sometimes you can even get an upgrade," said Lutz. "The airlines look at the courier companies as valuable customers. You identify yourself as a courier and you dress business class and since you're traveling alone you might get lucky."

Alone is key. Courier travel lends itself to short, solo junkets like this. For one thing, how long do you want to stay on the road with the same three pairs of underwear that you left with? (However, some routes do allow you to check a single typical-size bag.) For another, courier companies offer only one ticket per day on their routes. To bring along a husband or a friend becomes a complicated exercise in either a) programming a rendezvous on the other side of the world or b) trying to match your itinerary with another full-fare ticket. Unless your 6-year-old is comfortable passing a document pouch to a mysterious stranger, this is not the way to take a family vacation.

"The first time I did it, my sisters and I traveled from California to Manila for my mother's 80th birthday," said Christina Munoz, a veteran courier I ran into in Tokyo. "Six of us did it, getting into Manila on six different days."

Munoz has completed five courier runs, one to London and four to her family home in the Philippines. This time she paid $100 for the San Francisco-to-Manila ticket, plus a $100 deposit she'll get back when she finishes the trip successfully. The secret to getting the best fare is holding back to the last minute, she said. "My sister got $50 to Manila once. She had to leave the next day."

Causey agreed. "It's the opposite of regular air fares," he said. "The longer you wait, the more they will lower the price because they need someone on that plane. But you have to be flexible. If you want a certain date, you'd better go ahead and book it, because once that one seat is gone, it's gone."

If you're willing to travel really last minute, you have a very small chance of bagging the most coveted courier jobs of all: the freebies. They don't come along often, but every now and then a company will call Causey and beg for a courier to bolt for the airport.

On Thanksgiving Day, for example, a company was desperate to put someone in a seat from New York to Manila. Causey's staff started calling down a list of couriers willing to scramble. "After two hours, we had four or five interested. One of them went and got free airfare, $400 in expense money and one night in hotel. I think they made a short vacation out of it."

TOKYO, 7:45 P.M.

It was in Narita Airport that I ran into Munoz after my hop from Hong Kong. She, too, proudly bore a big red Jupiter sticker on her chest, having just gotten in from Manila. The Tokyo Jupiter rep -- a punky Japanese boy with bleached hair -- was already waiting for both of us at customs. He gave us vouchers for our hotel. Our flights -- hers to San Francisco, mine to New York -- would take off in the morning.

Munoz had only her pouch and went right through customs. But Blond Boy had me wait while he went to fetch the Hong Kong cargo. For some reason, this time I was required to physically pass through customs along with "my" baggage. He rolled out a dolly groaning with about 25 boxes wrapped in yellow plastic, babbled with a customs officer for a few seconds and nodded to me to hand over my pouch of claim tickets. We were waved through. Two dozen boxes of something had entered Japan with my name, figuratively, all over them. I asked Blond Boy what they were. He had no idea.

"It can be anything from a single spare part for a factory that's down to literally tons of cargo," said Lutz. "I've been a courier for two tons of CDs going from London to Miami."

Lutz's oddest cargo was an emergency shipment he escorted from Copenhagen to Amsterdam, a rush so hot that a flight attendant delivered it straight to his seat minutes before takeoff. It was a partly opened box. Inside were Beta tapes of "Punky Brewster" reruns needed urgently by a Dutch television network.

"I was proud to play a role in such an important mission for American culture," Lutz said.

NEW YORK, 11:20 A.M.

After a night in one of the airport hotels that is the fate of anyone traveling home through Tokyo (quickie sushi bars, huge breakfast buffets, tiny rooms), I again lucked out with a whole row of 747 to myself for the flight to JFK. Blond Boy had given me my ticket and my courier pouch for the last leg the night before, so check-in was normal. And the flight was long.

In New York, I had one last obligation. "DO NOT clear customs by yourself," my instructions commanded. So in the customs hall, as directed, I walked to counter No. 7 wearing my Jupiter sticker on my lapel. The Jupiter guy came right over -- not Dennis -- took my pouch and escorted me over to a small window called the "ships office." He slid my pouch and passport through to the agent. A few minutes later, my passport slid back out.

Mission accomplished. I was heading for the exit before anyone else on my flight even had their bags. It felt funny being an ordinary civilian again.

"Hey, buddy," the Jupiter guy called after me. "You can take that sticker off now."

So You Want to Be a Courier . . .

If you think you've got the stuff to be an air courier – the stuff being some free time, a passport and a carry-on bag – start by joining a group like the International Association of Air Travel Couriers (see below), the oldest of its type. For an annual fee, they give you access to its regularly updated list of routes offered by courier companies around the country, along with current fares and requirements for each. A few tips:

• When you book a courier route, the company may ask you to pay a refundable deposit of up to $100. You'll get it back when you complete the run.

• Anyone with a valid passport is eligible, but most companies require you to be 18 (21 in some cases). They'll ask you if you're willing to travel on short notice, but in reality the chances are small that you'll ever get a midnight call. (The closer you live to a major hub like Los Angeles or New York, the better your chance of bagging a freebie.)

• Depending on season and demand, expect to save somewhere between 30 percent (on popular runs like London) to 60 percent. If you're willing to play chicken and have a spur-of-the-moment approach to travel, fares sometimes drop sharply as flight time approaches and routes go unbooked. Savings of 85 percent over published fares aren't uncommon. To plan a more predictable trip, book as early as you can as routes tend to fill quickly.

• Most courier routes let you stay between a week and a couple of months, with open-ended returns possible as available within that period. In some cases, you'll have courier duties in both directions, sometimes only one way. Some, but not all routes, prohibit you from checking bags and you'll be limited to what you can fit in the overhead.

• You must get to the departure city on your own dime. They typically include Washington, Boston, Chicago, Los Angeles, Miami, New York and San Francisco, although other cities occasionally appear. Routes come and go as business demands, but common destinations include Amsterdam, Johannesburg, London, Paris, Bangkok, Beijing, Hong Kong, Manila, Seoul, Singapore, Tokyo, Buenos Aires, Mexico City, Montevideo, Quito and Rio de Janeiro.

UMBRELLA GROUPS. International Association of Air Travel Couriers, $45 annual dues, 352-475-1584, www.courier.org. Air Courier Association, $39 annual dues, 800-282-1202, www.aircourier.org.

COURIER COMPANIES. New York companies include Jupiter Air, flying out of JFK to various cites in the Far East and Australia, 718-656-6050; Now Voyager, flying worldwide, 212-431-1616; and Air Cargo Partners, flying from various U.S. cities – including Washington – to London, 877-227-9700.