It was awards season in Titusville! I don’t mean the Emmys, the Tonys, or the Fakies, but rather the Titusville Employee of the Month trophies, which went to an impressive roster of innovators, life-savers, and jokesters.

First up, the Water Production Department:

“Back in March, this is where we change our disinfectant byproducts. In previous years, this process has taken about two weeks. John was able to turn it into a two-day process.

Next, the police chief:

“Vinny got involved–all the merchandise back and bad guy goes to jail.”

And closing out the honors, the clerk’s office:

“I probably shouldn’t say this, but the last thing Shane did when he left as an intern–he was doing some of our advertisements. There’s something called alt-text where you can hover over a picture. It was a chili festival or something. A few days after he left, somebody hovered over it and it says, ‘ooh! Hot and saucy!'”

But the next item had potential to get more heated than a four-alam chili: whether to rename South Street after Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

“This is important because Dr. King expressed his dream that all minorities would be treated fairly,” an older man in a vest testified. “Renaming the street will emphasize not just the black minority but all minorities–the Asian minority, the Indian minority, Japanese, Chinese, and even the women minority.”

It was a compelling argument. Although to be frank, the reasoning of Vice Mayor Matt Barringer was less about including minorities (even “the women minority”), and more about raw bureaucratic expediency:

“The benefit is that there’s no street addresses, so it becomes much easier.”

The vote to go forward passed unanimously.

Barreling right along like a hurricane up the Florida coast, the council turned to one final teensy, tiny rezoning request for small homes near Park Avenue. Seems like a no-brainer and we can just–

“I’m not an engineer and I’m not fancy with a degree or nothing, but it just doesn’t seem like a practical area to build homes,” a man in a red Polo shirt protested with a swaggering “I’m no big-city lawyer” tone.

That kicked off a cavalcade of concerned residents protesting this wetland building spree.

• “You’re talking about homes that are 50 foot long and 20 foot wide. That’s a fishing boat!”
• “I believe your intelligence is wrong.”
• “If god had made square wetlands, it would’ve been a lot easier. But he didn’t.”

At one point, Mayor Walt Johnson perceived that a commenter was itching to say more after the timer had expired.

“You need some more time, sir?” the mayor gently quizzed.

“Uh,” the man mused, “two minutes. You need uplands for the–”

“One second, please,” the mayor halted him, seeking a motion from council to extend the time. It was a kind and merciful gesture. A one-time exception. Except…

“You need additional time?” Mayor Johnson asked the next woman who ran over. “How much?”

“Two minutes?” she offered hesitantly.

“That’s what I’m looking for,” he grinned. Fine, twice in one meeting is extremely benevolent and certainly not–

“Need more time?” the mayor prompted yet another commenter who ran over.

Finally, the applicant for the housing stepped forward indignantly. “The lady that spoke before had a parade of horribles of things that happen maybe once in a while and acted like they happen all the time! We’re not gonna wipe out the wetlands,” he insisted.

Mayor Johnson frowned. “I’d like to see everybody at least have a shot at talking together and making something better,” he murmured.

And in classic fasion, the council that gave everyone two more minutes gave themselves two more months to figure it out.