#102: Half Moon Bay, CA 5/2/17

I’ve seen city council meetings that were suspenseful, dramatic, or just plain mysterious.

But here in Half Moon Bay, they had a regular whodunit on their hands.

Nothing seemed amiss as council members watched a slide show about the library construction. It was a beautiful sunny day and the mayor was fresh off of handing a proclamation to a local women’s group.

But without warning, a photo flashed on screen of a gruesome crime scene.

“Uh, a little bit of an end note which I’m not happy about–nor should anybody be happy about,” a city employee grimly informed the next-of-kin, gesturing with a laser pointer to the explicit images. “A few months ago, we installed really nice gates at the Johnston House at the driveway. Over the weekend, somebody yanked those out and took them away.”

Too grief-stricken to talk, the council sat silently.

“We will be replacing those and perhaps going to a heavier duty steel,” the staffer shrugged. He added curiously, “we are very surprised that someone didn’t hear or see it. So if anybody sees a couple of new gates popping up somewhere, please let us know.”

No witnesses? No leads? I’m getting too old for this sh*t.

How is Half Moon Bay not swarming with FBI agents looking at DNA samples, tire tracks, and bodily fluids? Why are groundskeepers and handymen not being hauled in for questioning? Can we at least get checkpoints for all pickup trucks in the Bay Area?!

Whodunit? Was it…the kindly doctor? The affluent socialite? The reclusive innkeeper?

This didn’t add up either for Vice Mayor Deborah Penrose, the Sherlock Holmes of the council.

“How about putting a picture of the gates on our website?” she sharply inquired. “So if somebody runs across a gate they can say, ‘it’s that’ or ‘it’s not?'”

Aha! That’s just the kick in the pants this investigation needs. While we’re at it, put the picture on milk cartons. Send out an Amber Alert. Somebody check craigslist for–

“I wish I had a picture of the gates,” the man chuckled sheepishly. “We have the PLANS for them, but no one ever thought to take a PICTURE of the gates.”

He threw up his arms and let out a hearty laugh. “Who knew?!”

Oh, really? It’s awwwfuuuulllllyyyyy convenient that the city INSTALLED these gates but cannot identify them. Tell me, did the city have insurance on these gates? Are you going to collect a fat payout now that these gates are AWOL?

Also, who took those pictures AFTER the theft? Perpetrators often return to the scene of the crime.

This Gategate goes deep, folks.

Just to be safe, I’ll need urine samples from all of you.

And as it turns out, the Johnston House gates weren’t the only Bay Area booty to be held hostage.

“I went to a SFO roundtable which deals with airport noise,” announced Council Member Harvey Rarback. “One of the interesting things there: they made a recommendation to the FAA about the height and elevation at which planes can take off.”

He leaned into the microphone and furrowed his brow. “But the FAA is unable to change its regulations because the Trump administration says you cannot add a new regulation without taking away two other regulations. So if you think federal action isn’t affecting you, think again.”

Final thoughts: You know who needs lots of gates? Airports.

#101: Winston-Salem, NC 5/1/17

No flash. No tomfoolery. The Winston-Salem city council meeting was the “salad without dressing” of municipal powwows. There were no detours, no non-sequiturs, and a heavy dosage of the dry stuff.

“The theme for Building Safety Month 2017 encourages all Americans to raise awareness of the importance of building safety,” read the council secretary in a listless monotone. “And to be mindful of fire prevention, disaster mitigation, and backyard safety.”

After checking my backyard for potential hazards, I returned to the proceedings in time for a riveting slide show of the Northwest Winston-Salem Area Plan.

“We’ve had four public meetings, very well attended,” bragged a city employee at the podium. “Overall attendance was 75 people, with about 45 individuals coming to multiple meetings.”

Let the record show: a Trump inauguration-sized crowd of people attended these meetings.

One hour in, we finally saw a spark of passion from these dying embers. Granted, it was an unlikely subject to cause a dustup: a reexamination of the 2017 property tax appraisal process.

Hear me out! It gets interesting!

“To have our properties lowered like they have been lowered,” Mayor Pro Tempore Vivian Burke made sweeping eye contact with every person on the dais, “it must be our challenge that we let [Forsyth County] know that we don’t like what we are receiving.”

She waved her index finger menacingly next to her oversized broach, signaling that she meant business.

Council Member Denise Adams took a less ominous, more philosophical approach. “For the listening audience and others, there’s always an opportunity to change,” she leaned into the microphone and smiled. “Times change. People change.”

For pure pathos, Council Member John Larson channeled the inner frustrations of many Winston-Salemites–er, Winstonian-Salemers? Winstoner-Salemanders?

“Nobody likes to see their property devalued. It’s very demoralizing.” He frowned deeply and scratched his demoralized face. “Their home is one of the most important investments they have. Individuals don’t have the stamina to take it in front of the Board of Adjustments.”

But someone who did have a trainload of stamina was Mayor Pro Tempore Burke. Suddenly no more Ms. Nice Council Member, she used Larson’s comments to light a match on her stick of rhetorical dynamite.

“It is a DISGRACE and a SHAME that we allow investors to come through and assault our neighborhoods like they have,” she thundered.

“I said to the city manager, ‘I just want you to go and look. Look at the joy and pleasure we have in keeping our neighborhoods.’ Homes are simply beautiful. We spend many dollars–mine looks like a golf course.”

She stared daggers. “Stop destroying our dreams.”

Burke: “I buried 15 land mines on my property. I dare you to come destroy my dreams.”

Finishing on a lighter note, the city manager folded his hands politely and smiled. Far from crushing anyone’s hopes, he was instead expanding their horizons.

“You’ve been asking for many years for us to reduce the use of paper. So this is our fist month using iPads for automated agendas so we don’t have to chop down all those trees.”

He paused before teasing a tantalizing piece of news. “And in a few months we’ll actually be voting with our iPads as well.”

Welcome to the future, Winston-Salem. As a great thinker once said, “Times change. People change.”

Final thoughts: I give 10 out of 10 stars to those 45 people who attended multiple zoning meetings. Oy vey, how did you manage?!

#100: Arvada, CO 4/17/17

It was breathtaking how quickly the good news kept rolling in to the Arvada city council chamber. But the best news was arguably reserved for the man who was nowhere in sight.

“[Councilmember John] Marriott is on a well-deserved vacation,” Mayor Marc Williams informed the unlucky working stiffs left on the dais. He added somewhat disdainfully, “South Padre Island.”

Nevertheless, Councilmember Nancy Ford beamed proudly at the Girl Scout named Emma who was standing expectantly at the podium. “Only three percent of Girl Scouts ever earn this,” she said, referring to the elusive Gold Award.

Excitedly, Ford grabbed Emma’s shoulders and spun her around, displaying a vest chock full of badges.

“Look at this!” exclaimed Ford.

Mayor Williams whistled. “Wow! You want to get a picture of that?!” The ladies mugged for the camera as people applauded the impressive garment.

Wardrobes dramatically shifted as Councilmember Mark McGoff congratulated the VERY casually dressed high school swimmers who took Emma’s place. “The JeffCo Hurricanes have won the 2017 Speedo Four Corners Sectional Meet in Lewisville, Texas,” he read.

“We work very hard as a team in the pool every night,” said their spokesperson, the most formally attired of the teens in a t-shirt and jeans. Another of their crew was in tie-dye and shorts–but the most questionable fashion choice was the standoffish young lad in a sleeveless hooded sweatshirt.

(I’m sure the dress code is considerably looser on South Padre Island. But even there, I doubt that sleeveless hoodies are couture.)

arv2 — Thank you for not wearing your Speedos, I guess.

From sports to entertainment: a new movie theater was coming to town–but the president of Harkins Theaters knew there was only one way to make the announcement even sweeter.

“This is our senior vice president–also a Gold Award Girl Scout winner,” he gestured to the lady next to him.

“I was hoping to tell Emma congratulations, but she left!” the VP threw up her arms in mild dismay as the council guffawed.

The pair of Hollywood hot shots launched into a slide show of the finest, most luxurious theater Metro Denver would ever see.

“We’ll bring in local breweries. We have a new concession stand with hot food offerings and all-laser projection,” bragged the president. “The top picture is the recliner seats,” he nodded to the tantalizing stock photo of a family enveloped in cushioned bliss.

“So help me, god, people will be smiling.”

But while the theater reps were pumping the butter, Councilmember Ford pumped the brakes. “I did a little research on the cinema industry and I found conflicting reports,” she clasped her hands. “How do you see it performing in the future?”

“I’d say that reports of our demise have been greatly exaggerated,” the movie prez reassured her.

With that, Mayor Williams dramatically flourished a sheaf of papers. “I will now sign the contracts!” he boomed, sealing the theater deal.

Councilmember Bob Fifer politely interjected. “I just wanted to share: tomorrow I’ll be flying down to Arizona to speak about broadband. I gotta be at the airport by six in the morning. I was trying to tell the mayor I need to be done by 7:02,” he glanced at the clock.

“Mr. Fifer,” the mayor retorted, “I’ve seen a picture of you at the age of 24. I don’t think beauty rest is going to do you any good!” The mayor and a handful of audience members cackled as Fifer shook his head ruefully.

#99: Medicine Hat, AB 4/17/17

From inside the gigantic semi-circle of the Medicine Hat city council, an equally gigantic subject emerged: how much reading do councilors REALLY want?

“I always wondered whether we needed more reporting, not less,” Councilor Les Pearson fired a shot across the bow of the anti-report lobby. “I’m wondering if council can be advised in a briefer form in a more frequent basis.

“It’s draining, I guess, on some people–on me in particular,” Pearson admitted with the exasperation of someone who had just forced an Encyclopedia-length government report past his eyeballs. “I guess I would like smaller bites along the way.”

“The intent,” Chief Administrative Officer Merete Heggelund replied, “is that you should be able to get the gist of it from the top” pages. She held her thumb and index finger less than an inch apart, measuring out 20 to 30 sheets of paper max. “It’s not that we expect council to have read 500 pages of financial information.”

med1 — Pearson: “NOW you’re telling me?!”

“This is good, spirited conversation,” said Councilor Robert Dumanowski without a hint of enthusiasm–but also without irony.

“Quarterly reports are indicative of the industry and market world, etc.,” he launched into an exhaustive stem-winder that made my skull numb for a solid two-and-a-half minutes. I regained lucidity during his closing argument.

“I could go on and on and on, but the reports will only be bumped a single month. It’ll still be, I’m sure, an award-winning financial report,” Dumanowski reassured fellow Hatters.

Trust me: this man DID read all 500 pages.

At this point, the meeting was more than three-quarters of the way over and the council was galloping through the budget like a Mountie on horseback. Prospects for a record-scratch, edge-of-our-seats moment were dim.

But dimness? Thy name is Councilor Bill Cocks.

“I can recall–and he shall remain nameless–a former councilor who voted in favor of the budget but NEVER voted in favor of the tax increases to support,” Councilor Cocks glared out from over his bow tie into the camera. “You can’t have your cake and eat it too.”

Yikes. While this was more “passive” than “aggressive,” the T-word touched off a nerve.

“I’m not happy we’re having a tax increase,” Councilor Julie Friesen hunched over and grimaced. “We don’t have a choice. We have to do this.”

You could almost see the Stockholm Syndrome set in. “I’ll support this, but, you know–who wants to? We don’t want to do it!”

Friesen: “Oh, god. The taxes…they’re waiting for me outside!”

She turned to Heggelund for backup. “You might just explain to people what it would mean if we didn’t do this.”

The Chief Administrative Officer rubbed her chin and said without emotion, “we would have to find the money elsewhere. And we’re running out of places to find that money.”

What a doom-and-gloom way to end a meeting. Heck, even the Civic Recognition Awards were dogged by a rain cloud.

“I’m just a little disappointed that we had no recommendations–NOBODY was nominated for community inclusion or sports and recreation,” Councilor Pearson waved his fist in disdain.

“It’s really too bad that those people were not being recognized. I know there are people who made major contributions to sports and recreation and community inclusion.”

Final thoughts: For those of us who need a picker-upper, here it goes: the City Council Chronicles Sports and Recreation Civic Recognition Award goes to…Councilor Les Pearson! Hooray for closure!

#98: Slidell, LA 4/11/17

“Mr. President,” drawled Councilman Glynn Pichon, “I’d like to remove 3288 Effie Street from the condemnation list and assign it to the city attorney’s office.”

Barely two minutes after roll call, this verbal hand grenade was tossed into the Slidell city council meeting. Well-dressed men in the audience frantically hunted through stacks of paperwork as city attorney Bryan Haggerty rubbed his tired eyes at the podium.

“The homeowner did demolish the property; the cleanup has not been completed,” Haggerty said with a frown, compulsively uncapping and recapping his pen.

“If I may, Mr. President, if anyone’s here that has any interest in the property, would you please come forward?” Haggerty wheeled around and scanned the chamber.

“Let the record reflect: no one appeared.”

“Let the record also show: this man is looking at FarmersOnly.com.”

Whew. Turned out this grenade was a dud. However, as soon as Council President Jay Newcomb flipped the page, calling out the name of 321 Cousin Street, the rumpled attorney rose again with an even more troubled look.

“Mr. France,” Haggerty summoned forth the shaggy, gray-haired building safety director as his first witness, “I know you’ve participated in some of the meetings. Would you provide the council an update?”

“Mr. Stanley proposed a plan to replace the electrical wiring and making that safe,” France slowly testified, bracing himself on the podium. “As well as the exterior of the building being brought up to 100 percent compliance.”

From memory, he impressively rattled off everything that the owner, this mysterious Mr. Stanley, had to fix: “All the rotten materials, the broken materials. The porch. The columns. The exterior doors. That does not include the heating, cooling, ventilation, and/or any plumbing deficiencies.”

Haggerty stood and cut to the chase. “These would be the three options. The first one: Mr. Stanley would have to appear tomorrow with his contractor. If he would fail to appear, we’re gonna ask the council to order all utilities be disconnected, and this matter be set in two weeks for condemnation.”

He wiped his nose. “The second option would be that Mr. Stanley work out a building permit with a schedule–it’s a schedule we are VERY strict about.”

France stood impassively as council members leaned in for the remaining ultimatum. “The third option would be that the permit would be issued, but if the work stopped or ceased for whatever reason, we would immediately cut off all utilities.”

All heads swiveled to the right end of the dais. Councilman Pichon knew this case inside and out–the final judgment was his.

“I’m gonna use the second option here to require Mr. Stanley to meet with Joe France tomorrow to submit a plan. Because of the public safety concern, which is a real threat,” Pichon clasped his hands and stared grimly at the lawyer, “if Mr. Stanley failed to meet with Joe France, the city is authorized to disconnect utilities by the close of business tomorrow.”

To administer the sentence, Haggerty beckoned Stanley forward. The man planted himself glumly at the podium and stared at the floor.

“I want to make sure you understood. You’re in agreement with that?”

“I am,” he responded.

“Okay,” Haggerty gestured to the audience. “Make sure you meet with Mr. France to set a time for tomorrow.”

“Ten-thirty. My office,” France ordered.

Stanley nodded. “That’s fine.”

Final thoughts: I give 10 out of 10 stars to swift Southern justice.

#97: Caribou, ME 4/10/17

“Before we start, I just wanna announce: a public hearing on marijuana usage was scheduled for tonight. That won’t be tonight–it wasn’t in the paper, I guess,” a contrite Mayor Gary Aiken warned as councilors stared stone-faced (no pun intended) ahead.

And thus, the Caribou city council meeting started off innocently–and amusingly–enough. However, as citizens lined up to speak, the meeting slowly morphed into an increasingly depressing debtors court.

“We’ve had back taxes for quite some time since my dad took ill. He’s been a couple years passed away,” a man admitted earnestly off-camera. One councilor leaned back. Another crossed his arms.

“So are you prepared to pay the $11,960.76?” the mayor quizzed him.

“Today? No,” the man flatly replied.

Councilor Joan Theriault scrutinized his case file like a sympathetic magistrate judge. “In 2018, you would get a $20,000 homestead exemption,” she finally looked up to inform him. “Make sure you apply.”

“It’s been on my mind for quite some time now. But…I can only do what I can only do,” he inexplicably shrugged off her advice.

As he left the podium, another citizen in dire straits took his place. The mayor massaged his forehead as the desperate plea began.

“We have approximately $2,000 to give,” the man sniffed. “My family’s gonna help us to clear that bill up.”

His wife chimed in unprompted. “You know what my grandmother used to say? ‘Experience is good if you don’t pay too dearly for it.'”

The panel of councilors remained expressionless.

She continued, “You guys have been really, really good and leaned over backwards for him–”

“I’m glad you understand that because I don’t think he understands that,” Mayor Aiken sharply retorted.

Her husband shot back, “I understand that.”

The mayor ignored him. “As of right now, the property is gonna go up for sale–”

“PLEASE take that out of the equation,” interjected the man acidly.

“Take what out of the equation?” the mayor leaned forward, genuinely confused.

“What you just said,” he spat. “Don’t say that to me.”

His wife was horrified. “Knock it off. KNOCK. IT. OFF.”

As her husband protested, councilors sat motionless with their hands clamped in their laps. Picking a fight in front of the people who might sell your house is probably not in “The Art of the Deal.”

“So, it’s part of the equation,” the mayor repeated. Husband and wife did not reply. The council dictated the terms: the man would pay $500 in the next 21 days, plus another $350 by May 5.

There was an uncomfortable pause as councilors watched the feuding spouses shuffle out of the room.

A third man stepped forward to spin a long story about dutifully paying his taxes–sighing the whole time.

“Do you have your receipts?” Councilor Theriault peered over her glasses.

“No,” he breathed another baritone sigh. “I wasn’t very good at keeping receipts. My father’s name is the same, so things kinda get opened that shouldn’t. Uh, it’s hard to explain when you live with the same name.”

Councilor Philip McDonough was done with excuses. “Every time the situation comes up, it’s a different subject for each person! You bring in what you owe and we’ll turn your deed back to you.”

He slapped the table angrily. “Yes, it’s hard to sit here and say that. And it’s hard listening to them. But the rest of our citizens have an obligation and they all meet it.”

Sighing Man turned away disgustedly. “I’m sorry, but you’ve offended me, sir.” He stepped out the door, closing it behind him.

The council stared silently.

#96: Burnaby, BC 4/3/17

It’s springtime in Canada, which means everything is coming up roses.

That certainly was the case at this week’s Burnaby city council meeting, where even the stickiest of wickets had a silver lining.

“A good friend of mine has Parkinson’s,” revealed a silver-maned man who, being the near-perfect vocal doppelgänger of Mister Rogers, sat politely in front of the councilors.

“He needs to use an electric wheelchair to get around. To come to my house for a coffee has become kind of a problem. To get to that ramp, he would have to put his wheelchair onto the roadway.”

Mayor Derek Corrigan broke in apologetically. “Let me say to you that, uh, the city of Burnaby takes this issue very seriously.”

“I realize that, Your Worship,” the commenter responded in that kindly Fred Rogers deadpan. “I’m a boomer. As we age, mobility will become more of an issue. We’re getting older every day.”

At this point, someone to his left yelled out, “Mature!”

“Mature, yes! More mature,” the man chuckled. “And better looking, I might add.”

bur1 — Better looking? Is that possible?

Speaking of older and better looking–

“The report that’s before us is naming the 2016 Outstanding Citizen of the Year,” Councilor Dan Johnston announced. “This year we actually are naming a couple: Jim and Lindy McQueen.”

Johnston rattled off all their volunteer work that made the McQueens mc-qualified for this honor:

Classic Car Show
Festival of Lights
Burnaby Seniors Games
Edmonds Bike Fair
Foster parents to 15 moose
Poutine taste testers

“I think I would call them the lovebirds of the community,” Councilor Anne Kang smiled. “They come out in a pair, they come out as–I don’t want to say this but, Mr. and Mrs. Claus!”

“There is no public event in Burnaby where you don’t find Jim and Lindy. They’re everywhere,” Councilor Pietro Calendino said as a compliment (or perhaps a warning…).

“It’s incredible that two senior citizens–almost as young as I am,” he gestured to his own white hair and beard, “can dedicate so much time to the community.”

Mayor Corrigan subtly nodded. “It’s not often that the award is given to a couple. But in this case, I don’t think you can separate the two.”

Well, the clock is ticking. It’s time to make one more person happy. We’ve got five councilors left, so who’s it going to be?

“I’m just very pleased to see that we’re purchasing $120,000 worth of shade structures for parks for the summer!” Councilor Colleen Jordan eagerly read off the dollar amount with a huge grin. “One of my pet peeves is providing enough shade.”

Not one to sit on good news, Councilor Jordan looked out to the audience and gasped excitedly.

“Especially since one of our members of our Heritage Commission is in the audience, we got a $57,000 grant for our–yes!” she pumped a thumbs up.

“I think that because it was such short notice there might not have been many applicants. But whatever the reason, we doubled the amount of money to celebrate our 125th birthday!”

“It’s like having Christmas,” Mayor Corrigan observed.

“It’s very happy Christmas for everyone!” Jordan threw up her hands and laughed.

Final thoughts: After consulting with the judges, I give Jim and Lindy McQueen 13.41 Canadian stars, which is 10 American. I don’t usually give stars to a couple, but in this case you can’t separate the two.

#95: Renton, WA 3/27/17

Often, city council members are the stars of their meetings.

But sometimes, they get upstaged by more intriguing characters.

“Whereas women need to be inspired by female leaders…and women need to document and highlight their triumphs and accomplishments, I do hereby proclaim March 2017 to be Women’s History Month,” deputy city clerk Megan Gregor read the proclamation inside a council chamber whose male-to-female ratio was higher than the Space Needle.

A woman led her infant daughter to the podium. “I think your helper’s gonna get that,” observed Mayor Denis Law. The council smiled at the little girl–until Gregor handed her the paper and she promptly tossed it on the floor.

ren1 — What a great moment for wome–annnnd now it’s dirty.

From here on out, the center of gravity shifted to the clerk’s desk, where Gregor plowed through a long string of numbers without breaking a sweat.

“The Finance Committee approves claims vouchers 354750 through 354751, 354754 through 354767, 354793 through 355173, 5325 through 5335, and 1006, and three wire transfers and two payroll runs,” she rattled off flawlessly.

However, the dismount was a struggle.

“With benefit withholding payments totaling four million and four hundred dollars, and–no, sorry. Let me go over that again.” She took a deep breath. “Four million, four hundred and sixty-nine…dollars, eight hundred and four….”

She wheeled around and stared bewildered at Councilmember Ed Prince. “Sorry, I’m reading it all wrong.”

“You did great,” Prince reassured her.

But as any stage performer knows, it’s hard to get your groove back if you’re rattled.

“The downtown utility improvements project phase one in the amount of five thousand and seventeen…five hundred thousand, seventeen dollars–no,” Gregor shot a frustrated glance down the dais.

Suddenly, she threw a Hail Mary that even Russell Wilson could admire. “Five, one, seven, two, two, eight,” she laughed, simply reading off each number like a boss.

That slick move apparently infused some much-needed mojo. “An ordinance granting unto Puget Sound Energy, Inc. the franchise to construct, operate, set, erect, support, attach, connect, maintain, repair, replace, enlarge, and use facilities–” she bulldozed forward, “–for power, heat, and light in, upon, over, under, along, across, and through the area.”

BOOM! Talk about nailing one of the ugliest, most convoluted paragraphs ever to rear its head at a city council meeting! I was overjoyed, ecstatic, elated, enchanted, jubilant, joyful, and–uh, feeling…good…times.

But in the home stretch of this well-oiled machine, one council member accidentally chucked a wrench into the works.

“The item I have is a travel authorization and expense report for me to attend the Smart Cities Conference in Santa Ana,” Councilmember Carol Ann Witschi announced. “The total cost is $2,030. I need to submit this to the council tonight for approval.”

All I see is a floating head in a maroon chair.

Silence.

Mayor Law glanced around. “Okay, uh….”

“Our first one!” blurted Councilmember Randy Corman. “What’s the protocol here?”

Uh-oh. How ironic that the smallest dollar amount of the night caused the biggest snafu.

“Any recommendation from the city attorney?” the mayor glanced playfully down the dais. Other council members chuckled as the city attorney threw up his hands.

It was a lock. The council unanimously voted to send Councilmember Witschi to Santa Ana–all expenses paid.

Final thoughts: The MVP was clearly Renton’s resilient deputy clerk. I give her performance a final score of five hundred six and–no, wait. Fifty and…sorry. Five or–

#94: Montgomery, AL 3/21/17

Mayor Todd Strange smiled patiently as he waited for council members to slowly fill the numerous vacant chairs on the dais.

“Well, obviously Spring Break has taken its toll on certain council people,” Strange quipped, soldiering ahead. Montgomery City Hall was fuller than usual with brightly-dressed dignitaries lining the front rows.

“We have a large crowd visiting Montgomery: 18 or so individuals from faraway Africa! Their purpose is to study the structure of race and social justice and look to our diversity and things that work.”

Um, I get that they’re here to study race relations, but–and don’t take this wrong way, Mr. Mayor–why the h*ck did they choose Alabama?!

“We were notified by Trivago that we were the number one community as a must-see for African-American culture,” he explained. Then he wheeled around to face the audience directly.

“I see you shaking your heads, so you do understand some English. We’re delighted to have you here!”

As the mayor turned back, the visitors exchanged glances and stifled laughter. Granted, his delivery was a little goofy, but I don’t get the joke.

mgy1 — Is there a lesson about racial justice here somewhere?

With that, the lady in charge of the platoon stepped forward to introduce everybody.

“The delegation this evening, ALL of whom are English speaking and representing 16 different countries in Africa, are emerging leaders.”

Ah. They all speak English. If the mayor realized his faux pas, he shrugged it off in a nanosecond. “We wanna get a group picture!” he gestured excitedly.

“This is why we come to Montgomery,” the woman deadpanned. What followed was a painful butchering of names as the journalists, attorneys, and even members of parliament gathered in front of the dais for what was, I assume, the highlight of their 6,000 mile trip.

Unfortunately, the travelers all journeyed to the exit, heading to their next event. Which meant they missed this slickly-produced audiovisual display:

Coming off the good vibes from the video, the meeting’s smooth flow was suddenly halted by a man so tall that he hunched at the podium to reach the microphone. The subject was a grave one: the city wanted to demolish his dilapidated house.

“You want to talk to us about your appeal?” President Pro Tem Tracy Larkin gently inquired in a voice so smooth you could toss a bowling ball down it.

“Yeah, my dad was fixing on [the house] and he got sick and all,” stammered the man. “I would like to have the opportunity to fix it back up to the code.”

“How much work was done so far?” Larkin murmured.

“Well, you look up on the basement, you can see all the way through,” he replied in his heavily muddled accent. “Then you look in the roof–on the edge it’s rotten. It’s real bad. Then it gotta be rewired.”

The white-haired, mustachioed housing enforcement officer jumped in. “Mr. President, it would be appropriate for the council NOT to give him any extension,” he asserted.

Oh, no! What kind of heartless bureaucrat would demolish a man’s house?

“We’re not bringing it for demolition. We contend that it’s an unsafe structure at this time,” he clarified.

“You do agree that it is an unsafe structure?” probed one council member.

“Yes,” the tall man leaned into the mic and nodded vigorously.

Well then, no demolition. No controversy. No further discussion. I guess the Africa delegation didn’t miss much after all.

City Council Chronicles

Somewhere out there, a city council meeting is happening. And you're not watching it. But I am. Each week, I bring you the highlights, lowlights, and weirdlights from places you don't live.

Category: council review

#102: Half Moon Bay, CA 5/2/17

#101: Winston-Salem, NC 5/1/17

#100: Arvada, CO 4/17/17

#99: Medicine Hat, AB 4/17/17

#98: Slidell, LA 4/11/17

#97: Caribou, ME 4/10/17

#96: Burnaby, BC 4/3/17

#95: Renton, WA 3/27/17

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Somewhere out there, a city council meeting is happening. And you're not watching it. But I am. Each week, I bring you the highlights, lowlights, and weirdlights from places you don't live.

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