Tag: municipal

#57: Gadsden, AL 10/4/16

Despite the best efforts of one joker, the Gadsden city council managed to get a thing or two done on Tuesday.

I knew there would be trouble in the chamber when Council President Deverick Williams had his questioning about a run-down property interrupted.

“Brian, there was some discussion about whether or not this was rehab-able. Is there something we’re not seeing with the pictures?”

The city’s chief building officer started to respond. “We looked at all of them and, based on the tax appraisal–”

All of a sudden a newscaster’s distant voice crackled through the room.

“HERE ARE THE FOUR THINGS YOU NEED TO KNOW ABOUT HURRICANE–”

Council Member Ben Reed leapt forward–or, more accurately, took his sweet time in reaching–to silence his cell phone.

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Well, I hope you brought enough to share with the rest of the council, mister.

President Williams froze. Then he turned back to the city employee. “I may need you to repeat that last part.”

The room broke down in laughter. “Sorry, it sounded like my voice changed there,” the man quipped in reply.

From here, the meeting segued nicely into a series of civic announcements.

“People think that First Friday ends in October, but let me stress to you: tell all your friends and your neighbors, we go until December,” the director of Downtown Gadsden pleaded to anyone within earshot. “We got the tractors this First Friday! Kings of Swing will be at Fourth and Broad. They’re always a big crowd favorite.”

But life in Gadsden isn’t all fun and games. Exhibit A: Mayor Sherman Guyton’s full-frontal attack on childhood lackadaisy:

“When kids get home, if they get past seven, eight years old and they can’t read and understand what they read, they start going downhill. They need to do a lot of homework and study when they get home. If they’re settin’ around the house, make ’em go to work.”

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“Homework? UGH, DAD, I HATE YOU.”

Then, at the end of the dais, it was Council Member Reed’s turn to speak. He brought up–what else–his outburst from earlier.

“I’m gonna apologize to the council and to the mayor for my phone going off,” he slowly drawled to chuckles. “But I’m gonna tell y’all–this is a fact–I put it on vibrate. I put it on mute. FYI, when you touch the Weather Channel, that baby’s comin’ on.” Yeah, likely story.

President Williams attempted to divert the council to a more serious matter. “October is also Breast Cancer Awareness Month. Wear as much pink as you got. Some of us got more pink in our closet than others–” he said casually, glancing at Council Member Billy Billingsley.

Council Member Reed, the white-haired class clown, immediately pounced. “I wanna know about the pink clothes in Billy’s closet!”

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“What color underwear ya got on? Twenty bucks says it’s as pink as a baby’s tush.”

After the snickers subsided, the council president patiently responded, “I didn’t say a word. I just looked that way.”

“Oh-kay,” Reed winked at the crowd.

Final thoughts: I give 10 out of 10 stars to Council Member Billy Billingsley. So what if the man has pink clothes? City councils could use more liberated males!

#55: Marysville, MI 9/26/16

Something old. Something new. Something borrowed. Something blue.

No, nobody was getting married at Marysville city hall. But things were still pretty darn eventful.

1. Something old

“Well, some two years and ten months ago I was at this podium taking the oath of office!” Mayor Pro Tem Wayne Pyden strolled down memory lane while the retiring police sergeant next to him stared back politely.

“On behalf of a grateful council, hopefully you have a good retirement. Be safe. And, uh, do–” Pyden shrugged while searching for the right motivational words, “–whatever it is you feel you…wanna do.”

Nailed it.

Putting on his glasses, the Mayor Pro Tem read from the council’s congratulatory message: “Happy retirement, as he spends more time hunting and enjoying life with his wife, son, and soon-to-be-born grandchild. (2. Something new)

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“You do you.”

3. Something borrowed

City manager Randall Fernandez stepped to the microphone with the air of someone hiding a juicy piece of gossip. “As you know, last November we had a vote to see if we could possibly build a new city hall. The residents said they did not want that.”

He glanced around. “This building is almost 50 years old. This building will need other significant upgrades besides the roof.” Having established that city hall was on borrowed time, Fernandez dropped a bombshell.

“As you know again, the council toured 1515 Busha Highway. Mike was our tour guide. He brought it up with his bosses to see if they had any interest in donating that building to the city of Marysville. We were informed a few months ago that the building WOULD be donated to us.”

A new city hall? For free?! Marysville is the luckiest city on the planet! Hell, if you people don’t take it, I will!

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This council meeting is being recorded by the security cameras at your bank.

Council Member Michael Buggy flipped to the back page of his packet apprehensively. “It says ‘such property shall continuously be used for such public purpose.’ Are we legally bound that that’s the ONLY thing we can use this property for?”

All eyes turned to city attorney Gary Fletcher, the white haired scion at the end of the long room. “That’s the purpose for which it has to be accepted. If not, it’s not deductible and they wouldn’t donate it.”

“So a year from now,” Council Member Buggy mused, “if we decide that this isn’t something–”

“I think I answered the question,” Fletcher sharply cut him off. “We should just leave it at that.”

Buggy slowly sank back in his seat. The room fell silent. What didn’t Fletcher want him to say? Did Buggy almost spill the beans on Fletcher’s secret plan for a private City Hall sauna?

4. Something blue

“Good luck with the baby,” the Mayor Pro Tem remembered to call out to the retiring sergeant as council members gathered their papers. “I had girls of my own and for…very sensitive…situations. So…good luck.”

There were cackles in the back of the room. Other council members snickered as the Mayor Pro Tem threw up his hands in embarrassment.

“I’m not trying to be chauvinistic or anything! But girls are special! They have special…needs.” Council Member Rita Hendricks rolled her eyes so hard they could have skidded across the river into Canada.

“Shut up!” he pleaded.

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“Menstruation! I’m talking about menstruation!”

Final thoughts: Menstruation.

#54: Oswego, NY 9/26/16

“Gentlemen,” began the mustachioed public commenter in the Oswego council chamber, “I want you to know that I’ve taken a survey through this town…what?”

One councilor muttered something off-mic.

“What did I say?” the man stared blankly.

“She’s not a gentleman,” said the voice, indicating the presence of Councilor Caitlin Reynolds.

The citizen commenter smoothly bowed and issued an extended mea culpa.

“Gentlewoman! I apologize. I’m old school. Let me get on my hands and knees for this–” He pivoted to the onlookers and held up a palm. “I apologize to all you female people.”

He was buttering up the crowd for something. I could tell by his suave demeanor and the way his t-shirt was tucked into his khakis that he was about to rip someone a new butthole.

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“Dudes and lady dudes, I’m sorry.”

“I took a poll here this past two weeks. It’s been–” terrible? people are furious? “–very good feedback. Very good. You people know what Standard & Poor’s is? It’s the stock market guys who grade the credit rating. This city, this council, this mayor is at QUADRUPLE A! Nobody’s complaining! They LOVE what you’re doing.”

Wow, that’s incredible! Leaving aside the fact that Quadruple A doesn’t exist, it’s truly amazing when there are ZERO complaints about ANYTH–oh, sorry, you had one more thing to say?

“One more thing, Mr. Mayor,” the man added Columbo-style, scanning the room behind him. “I see that he’s not here tonight….I would like to dismiss the fire chief, okay? It’s time for him to go. They don’t like him anymore. GET RID OF HIM. He is BEYOND BELIEF a scumbag, okay?”

Jesus. Talk about Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. How did we go from “nobody’s complaining” to “heads must roll?”

“And I’m sorry if that’s too direct,” the man said, not nearly as contrite as when he called ladypeople men earlier, “and if that’s personal, that’s too bad because he’s called ME a couple names in his lifetime, too. Thank you.”

Mayor William Barlow, Jr. propped himself on one elbow with his finger almost touching his eyeball. “Thank you,” he muttered.

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Nice headlights, your honor.

As if things couldn’t get any worse, all of a sudden, in marched the Grinch.

“I don’t want people to think that I’m against holiday tree lighting ceremonies,” began Councilor Robert Corradino innocently enough, “BUT we’re going to be spending about $6,000 for a temporary ice skating rink that uses a synthetic surface.”

His Grinchitude tapped his fingers. “I just feel that with all the other expenses we have, it’s a lot of money. I don’t say it’s NOT a good idea, but for ten hours on one day?”

Councilor John Gosek, a.k.a. Second Field Lieutenant in Oswego’s War on Christmas, piled on. “I don’t know how I can justify this to my constituents. We have several skating rinks available in the city we can perhaps use.”

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Why don’t you chop down the city’s Christmas tree to make your desks? OH WAIT, YOU ALREADY DID.

Rushing to Christmas’s defense was pro-skating rink Councilor Nathan Emmons. “It’s not only ‘take, take, take’ money from our residents, but we turn around and provide ENJOYMENT within our community! I think there’s a lot of value in that.”

With that, the council’s hearts grew three sizes–they voted unanimously for the skating rink. Councilor Emmons saved Christmas!

Interview #14: Bangor, ME Councilor Joe Baldacci (with podcast)

This is our second podcast interview which, as a reminder, is available on iTunes, Stitcher, and Player FM. You can also listen right here:

I talked to Bangor city councilor Joe Baldacci about city council dress codes, whether he preferred being mayor, and what it was like being 20 years younger than everyone else when first elected.

—

Q: You were elected to the Bangor city council in 1996. How were council meetings different in the 1990s than they are today? And feel free to quote Backstreet Boys lyrics in your answer.

A: [Laughs] They were not televised in the 1990s. They were more informal, I think you would say. Because they’re televised and recorded now, there’s always an assurance we’re making to make sure it’s fully transparent. That all things are discussed in public. Twenty years ago, I don’t think that same care was taken.

Q: What do you wear to city council meetings, and what do you think the dress code should be?

A: I think that on occasion, having buttoned-up short-sleeved shirts are fine. This is a part-time city council, we all have jobs outside of city council. Half the time I’m wearing a suit and tie, and half the time I’m maybe wearing a suit without tie or just a button-down shirt. It’s not overly formal.

Q: I always thought that in Maine, a short-sleeved buttoned-down shirt was the most formal you could be. Apparently, I was wrong. Okay, so you were mayor from 1998-1999. Which did you like better: being the mayor or a regular councilor?

A: Well, as a regular councilor you can be a little more, honestly, outspoken on issues. As the mayor, your focus really is trying to ensure consensus and stability.

Q: So it sounds like you’re just fine with being regular Joe Councilman? Literally, Joe Councilman.

A: The mayor doesn’t have any more votes than I do. It’s a ceremonial position more or less. It’s an honor. It’s all good. It’s just that as an individual councilor, you can push issues.

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Bangor, ME Councilor Joe Baldacci

Q: Your brother was also a Bangor city councilor who went on to be a congressman and governor of Maine. Is there any rivalry between the two of you where he says, “YOU’RE just a councilman. I was governor!” And you go “Yeah, you WERE. At least I’m still on the city council!”

A: [Laughs] No, John’s been very supportive.

Q: What advice did he give you when you were elected?

A: He told me to listen to the people that had been there many, many years. I was 31 and kind of a newbie. I think after me, everyone was in their 50s, 60s, or 70s.

Q: Wait, that’s a 20-year age gap. Did you feel any burden to prove you were mature enough to be on the council with these much older people?

A: Yes. Yeah, definitely. Especially the first year.

Q: If you caught some lobster and had a boil party at your house, who would you invite over to share it with?

A: Probably Councilor Perry…Councilor Graham…Councilor Faircloth…and–

Q: You can’t name all of them. You have to pick a favorite.

A: I like all of them equally!

Q: If I was talking to you in your first year, you would’ve picked a favorite. But you’re more diplomatic now.

A: Exactly.

Follow Councilor Joe Baldacci on Twitter: @JoeBaldacci

#53: Hot Springs, SD 9/19/16

If you thought that South Dakota city council meetings were polite, sleepy little powwows, you’re in for a Mount Rushmore-sized reality check.

Maybe it’s because Mercury is in retrograde, or perhaps because Mayor Cindy Donnell was taking the night off, but city administrator Nolan Schroeder was on the receiving end of some Hot Springs hot rage all night.

A burly man in a t-shirt bulldozed his way to the front of the stage where the aldermen–all but two of whom were technically alderwomen–sat vulnerable.

“Craig Romey,” he announced his presence. “When I was on the council–” Ahhh, a former alderman looking to share the wisdom of his years. How fortunate! Yes, my good man, you have something to say about drug testing of lifeguards?

“You guys aren’t doing it. Nobody is being drug tested are they?” he spoke haltingly, as if his CPU was buffering the words in his head. “I would classify it as life saving…lifeguard. And they’re not being drug tested. I’d like to know why…It’s the law.”

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“Did you miss me? Also, you’re breaking the law.”

The youthful city administrator drew in a breath. “That’s actually…not factual. [The law] mostly applies to first responders, EMT, firefighters, police.”

“You don’t think a lifeguard is lifesaving?” ex-Alderman Romey demanded.

“That’s not my call. We do follow the law.” Cool and collected until this point, Schroeder showed a hint of disdain for his inquisitor. “YOUR interpretation may be different than what’s required for us to do.”

But Romey admirably–and belligerently–insisted that HE was right. “I was going by what Sheriff Evans told myself–”

“We gave you our best answer, SIR,” snapped the city administrator abruptly.

The aldermen awkwardly averted their eyes. Romey took his seat. The unlucky job of seguing fell to Alderman Timothy Tescher. But there was one small problem.

“We have a small problem. We gather up brush all year long and we don’t have a chipper of our own. And we can’t burn it.” The other aldermen looked on blankly. “The way the air flows through that canyon, people down at the hospital get upset because their air exchangers are sucking our smoke into their hospital.”

He sighed. “We’re just about down to where we have to chip it.”

But a $16,000 wood-chipping extravaganza didn’t sit well with the tall glass of water in a short-sleeved shirt who stood to protest.

“I just can’t believe [the VA home] wouldn’t be interested in the pile if alls they gotta do is pay for the chipping,” he grumbled.

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The council meeting is right before the rehearsal of “King Lear.”

Alderman Tescher shook his head. “They can’t use them.”

“We CAN burn it, Tim,” insisted the man, escalating the situation like a brush fire in South Dakota. “It’s FACTUAL. We CAN burn it. That’s $16,000 you’re playing with!”

“It’s out of consideration to the neighbors we do not burn it,” Schroeder jumped in to remind the man, who apparently did not hear the part about hospitalized people inhaling smoke. “It’s a three-day process–”

“I KNOW how long it is, NOLAN,” he barked. “Take ’em out to the airport. Put ’em down in the pit. Then you could burn them. It wouldn’t bother anyone.”

The city administrator paused, wondering how to safely respond to someone who really, REALLY wants to set things on fire.

“It’s an interesting idea,” he said, completely uninterested.

#52: Ellsworth, ME 9/19/16

It’s autumn in New England: the leaves are changing, the lobsters are boiling, and the city councils are laser focused on the People’s Business.

In Ellsworth, it turns out that things are actually going very, very well. So well in fact, there’s photographic proof.

“Up on the screen, you’re seeing the five award winners in the city’s recent photo contest,” the city manager gestured to a slideshow playing just off-camera.

Winners included “Fall on Leonard Lake.” “Sunset on Branch Lake.” “Sunset on Union River.”

“All these sunsets,” he quietly groused. “I’m looking for a sunrise.” Me too, buddy. Just not one that occurs at the butt-crack of dawn.

Council Chairman Robert Crosthwaite stared transfixed at the digital photo show. “I just wanna say, those make a great backdrop for council meetings. Takes off the boredom.”

Psst! Mr. Chairman, you’re not supposed to say at the council meetings that they’re boring! (Instead, say it on City Council Chronicles’s new podcast, now available on iTunes.)

Crosthwaite turned to the bearded, baseball cap-clad man hiding in the rear. “Mr. Harbormaster?”

His Mastercy swaggered up to the podium. “There’s gonna be hot air balloon rides on Friday night and Saturday morning. The chowdah fest–noon to 2. And the beer and wine tasting tent, it’s gonna be behind the gazebo.” He returned to his seat, keeping a solid poker face while rattling off the objectively kickass event listing.

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Look! It’s the picture!

“Any comments from the citizens?” the chairman asked. Not a soul stepped forward, even though the room was oddly packed to the gills. “Good to see. I guess we get ’em all by Facebook now.”

The fire chief squeezed forth from the crowd to bestow an award on some local superstars.

“On September 1, there was a gentleman that had a medical event driving down High Street, and was witnessed by Jack Carlin.” The chief held the audience at rapt attention, describing the car’s harrowing path through Ellsworth:

“He was exceeding 80 miles an hour, narrowly missing a vehicle on Water Street, careening down the Harbor Park. He ended up submerging the vehicle. Mr. Carlin got down to the harbor at the same time harbormaster Adam Wilson noticed the event occurring, and the two gentlemen came to the rescue.”

The harbormaster took an encore at the podium alongside Carlin as the audience thunderously applauded. “We have your back,” Chairman Crosthwaite gave a thumbs up after the cheers subsided.

It turns out, the two dozen or so people crowding the chamber were only there to hear about the Harbor Heroes. “Public hearing on amendments to the code of ordinances. Chapter 5, sewer ordinance, article 10–” the chairman began reading over the loud shuffle of everybody beelining for the exit.

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Whoa, okay now, is a stampede really necessary?

Their loss. They really should have nixed the Irish Goodbye and stayed for the alcohol permits–which included an application from “A.A.R.G.H., Inc.”

Councilor Gary Fortier needled the chairman. “I was disappointed you did not pronounce it–”

“Aargh?” Crosthwaite anticipated

“AARGH!” several councilors grunted.

“It is [Talk Like a] Pirate Day,” one councilor whispered.

Final thoughts: I can’t believe I found out it was Talk Like a Pirate Day by watching a city council meeting. Social media, you’re dead to me.

Interview #13: Anchorage, AK Assembly Chair Elvi Gray-Jackson (with podcast)

Big news! For the first time, you can now listen to a City Council Chronicles interview in podcast form. Follow this link to City Council Chronicles on iTunes or click play:

It’s a very special interview, in which we travel way, way up to Anchorage and talk to the chair of the city’s assembly, Elvi Gray-Jackson. She told me about the betting pool she runs on the council and how she cold-calls audience members for the Pledge of Allegiance.

—

Q: How many people usually show up to the assembly meetings? And because this is Alaska, how many grizzly bears show up?

A: How many grizzly bears? You mean rude people?

Q: I didn’t know that was the euphemism. I was talking about actual grizzly bears. Either one.

A: Literal bears, no. On average we have an audience of about 100, maybe 120. For every meeting I’ll estimate what time I think we’re gonna end the meeting. There’s about six of us–when I get to the meeting tonight I’ll say, “okay, what’s your guess?” We have fun trying to guess what time the meeting’s going to end. And somebody wins.

Q: You run a betting pool for the meeting end times?

A: It’s just for fun.

Q: Who usually wins?

PA: I win a lot. Lately, some of my colleagues are getting pretty good at it. I like to make the meetings lively and fun. What I do different than what any other chair has done–usually after roll call we do the Pledge of Allegiance. And every other chair usually asks one of our colleagues to lead us. What I decided I was gonna do is, every meeting I’m going to arbitrarily pick somebody in the audience to come up to the podium and lead us. I like to engage the public.

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Anchorage, AK Assembly Chair Elvi Gray-Jackson

Q: It’s Alaska, so I’m assuming people are allowed to bring guns to the assembly meetings?

A: That’s an interesting question…yes. People are allowed to bring guns.

Q: So how many guns do you have on your person while chairing the meetings?

A: I don’t have a gun. I’m terrified of guns. Dick Traini, who’s my vice chair now, when he was chair, he had the dais area bullet-proofed. And I was thankful for that.

Q: Are there some council members who are thorns in your side?

A: I’m a dolphin. Dolphins could kill sharks. Dolphins always have a dolphin expression on their face and the sharks are constantly doing things to try and change that personality. But the dolphins just maintain it and the sharks finally calm down. In that respect, there are human sharks. I don’t let people push my buttons.

Q: …That’s an analogy I have never heard from anyone else before.

A: And I have a dolphin tattoo on my left shoulder.

Q: Last September you missed an assembly meeting because you were introducing Michelle Obama at the White House. Looking back, do you regret not being there to vote on the contract for the reservoir mixer phase II upgrades?

A: Absolutely no, I don’t regret not being there. I was representing Anchorage. I plan my entire life around my assembly meetings because I don’t want to miss them. We have the opportunity to do the assembly meetings by phone. I HATE doing assembly meetings by phone because you get elected and you need to do your job.

#51: Greer, SC 9/13/16

At the Greer city council meeting, did anyone raise a ruckus? Cause a concern? Threaten to secede?

Nope, nada,  none of it. This municipal powwow was so genteel as to be sleep-inducing. When you think “government meeting,” this was exactly the excitement level you’d imagine.

“An ordinance to provide for the annexation of property owned by Teresa Smith,” Mayor Rick Danner read from the dense agenda. His Honor, sporting a blue bow tie, glanced up to the zoning director–himself sporting a gray bow tie. (I’d bet anything that these two men had an a capella rehearsal after the meeting.)

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FINALLY, a touch of CLASS at a council meeting (I’m talking about the iPad).

“A year or so back, we were looking at about 300 single family attached units. Now, the 27 acres has been significantly reduced to 85 houses,” the director recited, flipping between the tablet in his hand and a sheaf of papers on the podium.

“By a show of hand,” the mayor raised his voice, “is the owner of the property with us this evening? Do you care to add anything?”

From somewhere in the audience came a holler: “He mentioned 85 single family. It’s actually 87.”

“Thank you,” the mayor nodded.

But wait, there’s more! More zoning! Seriously, it’s nothing but zoning. Normally, I’d fast-forward through this bad boy to get to the good stuff–liquor licenses, citizen complaints, wildlife problems.

Not today. There’s a land rush in Greer, apparently, and Ms. Medlock wants a piece of the zoning pie.

“Ms. Medlock is seeking to rezone to C2 to operate a used car lot on that property,” announced the zoning czar.

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This is a record for city council meeting bow ties.

The mayor repeated his catchphrase. “By a show of hand, is the owner of the property with us this evening? Would you like to add anything?”

Ms. Medlock called out no.

But the mayor wasn’t satisfied.

“The existing structure with the wall and the little office–will that remain?” he pondered.

“That for now is going to stay,” Ms. Medlock testified, reluctantly planting herself behind the podium. “The shed is nice for them to be able to pull cars into to work on in the shade.”

“Let me go back to Glenn for a second,” said the mayor as council members silently contemplated what time they would be free to leave. “Storage of vehicles and cars or whatever? That’s a grassy lawn there.”

Glenn, the zoner: “No vehicles parked on a residential zoned property. They can’t just cover the grass area back there with automobiles,” he assured the mayor.

Ms. Medlock decided to give Mayor Danner r a taste of his own medicine. “I have one question,” she sprung on him. “The tenant has already got a sign to fit on the post with anticipation that this is gonna be approved–”

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Truly an astounding  number of bow ties.

The mayor let out a gentle laugh. Uh-oh. Is His Honor going to torpedo the rezone and leave that poor sign post flapping in the breeze?

“–does he need to bring that to you?”

There was a moment of silent reflection.

“Needs to go through the permitting process,” was the answer.

Final thoughts: As far as council meetings go, I give this 3 out of 10. As far as bow ties go…I give it a perfect score.

#50: Stillwater, OK 9/12/16

It wasn’t your typical day at the Stillwater city council.

The big boss–Mayor Gina Noble–was away, which meant everyone could loosen their ties, let their guards down, and be a little naughtier than usual.

No one was more determined to have a good time than Vice Mayor Pat Darlington, who, as the substitute teacher for the day, brought a surprise for the class.

“We are so excited to have Eliza Neal,” to recite the Pledge of Allegiance. “She is…I’ll let her tell you later. But she is going to lead us.”

What a teaser! What could she possibly be that the vice mayor isn’t telling us? A vampire? A Belieber? In fact, we’d have to play one of Darlington’s twisted games to find out.

“May I ask you a few questions?” the vice mayor kindly gazed upon the bespectacled child. “Eliza, what year are you in school?”

“Umm…” Eliza said, clearly pondering this hardball question. “Fifth.”

The vice mayor feigned surprise. “Fifth grade?! I was gonna say high school.” The room chortled at this witty banter. “What is the favorite book you had this summer?”

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Eliza is going on “Charlie Rose” after this.

“It’s actually a series,” Eliza responded cautiously. “It’s called Warriors.”

“Warriors.” Darlington narrowed her eyes. “Is that violent?”

Once again, the room erupted in laughter, including Eliza.

“Unless you say cats fighting…yes,” Eliza conceded with a giggle.

The vice mayor straightened her back. “Well, I might just have to read that in the daytime, not the night.” This was quite the comedic routine, and the audience was eating it up. Now that the duo had loosened things up, Darlington had a final question.

“I think that she has a riddle for us. Do you have a riddle for us?”

“Yeah,” Eliza remembered. “Where do you park a camel?”

“Is that specific to the city of Stillwater or just in general?” the vice mayor deadpanned to further cackles.

Eliza gave away the punchline. “In Camelot!”

“Oooohhhh, that’s a good one,” Darlington remarked dryly. At this point, the crowd was definitely open to having Eliza and the vice mayor do some sort of “Who’s On First” slapstick routine. But the first rule of showbiz is “always leave them wanting more.” So Eliza took a bow and the council got back to the lesson plan.

It turns out, there are other fun things in Stillwater besides the city council meetings–and the visitor’s bureau chief eagerly rattled them off in a PowerPoint presentation: the Wrestling Hall of Fame and Museum, Mid-Continent Kennel Show, and the All Aboard Polar Express train.

“You may not know that we’ve secured reindeer that will be in town” for the Polar Express, she bragged. Which would mean “a majority of people being around a reindeer for the first time in their lives.”

But rumors of the reindeer had been swirling around the Stillwater airwaves.

“I can’t remember who was talking about the reindeer,” Councilor Miguel Najera pondered, before a stroke of realization. “It was Kylie! ‘Cause she said ‘live reindeer’ and Steve [Daniels of ‘The Morning Scramble’ 105.1 FM] said, is it gonna be ‘dead reindeer’?!”

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Councilor Najera wants to make it rein.

The head of the visitor’s bureau smiled knowingly. “We’ve been saying that because eight out of 10 people think they’re mystical creatures. They don’t know that they’re real!”

“They are,” murmured city manager Norman McNickle. “They can fly.”