Zoning Out

I did something tonight I've never done in my whole entire 40-some-odd-year life.

I attended a meeting of the B'field Town Council.

Here's something I've not mentioned to you. Along with everyfuckingthing else that's been going on in my life, the breaking and subsequent tries at mending friendships, the zillion dollar surprise hospital bill that went to the lawyer (which I'm still fighting), the dead headlight and subsequent stoppage by the police, there was one I forgot to throw in there. The Town Council is wanting to re-zone where I live.

I found this out from the owner of a business that neighbors TheCompanyIWorkFor. He's been an on-and-off member of the council for years, and even when he's off, he keeps abreast of everything they do. And this is good. Because our council has this small habit of trying to decide things in secret then perpetrate them upon the citizens.

Mr Businessowner came into the office one day and asked me if I'd gotten my registered letter yet. After I stared blankly at him for a few seconds, he explained to me that I should have gotten one about the re-zoning of Bet Avenue, which isn't called that but you get my drift, and that I was supposed to have already gotten a registered (or certified, whichever kind you have to sign for) letter to advise me of the public hearing the town was having re this issue. He then went on to tell me there was a small ad in the newspaper about it as well, which of course I didn't see as I don't, as they say around here, take the paper.

He later brought me the actual ad that was in the paper, so I'd know when and where all the fun was going to happen. This notification of public hearing was in the classified ads. It was approximately the size of a "Free Kittens to Good Home" ad. It said that Bet Avenue was currently zoned "M-1," "light commercial," (office buildings) and that they were planning on re-zoning it "Something Else-1," which would give car dealerships, funeral homes, fueling stations, restaurants, clubs, and several other types of businesses the opportunity to go in.

The parcel of lots to be re-zoned started at lot 352. The lot right beside mine.

Needless to say, I got a little cranky over this. And so I waited, waited for my registered letter to come. It never did. Finally last week I called the Town Manager's office and was told I "didn't really need one of those," (that's right up there with, "Just sign here, you don't need to read the fine print"), that it basically stated everything that was in the newspaper ad. Oookay. I let it go, and girded my loins to go to the Town Council meeting.

As a small aside here, there's kind of a funny thing about our council. The running town joke is that if you go to a council meeting and voice your opinion against anything the council is up to, you're thrown out. My friend and workmate San's husband, the Ziffel (we call him), has been thrown out multiple times. There's a local citizen and businessman who's been thrown out more times than anyone can count. In a small, secret way, I was hoping to get thrown out. It would make me a real citizen!

And so tonight was the meeting. And I went. Dear Ol' Dad was nice enough to go with me for moral support. We got there a bit late and some business about rebuilding a bridge was going on, but it finished up in short order, and the public hearing was (thankfully) next on the agenda.

The mayor, a Hokie fan and friend of my sister and her husband's, read the notice from the paper ver batim. Then he asked if anyone in the audience would like to speak on the issue. I found my hand popping right up, and myself walking up to the podium and microphone.

There were about 50-75 people there in the audience. I blithered and blathered and I can't remember anything I said, but I opposed the re-zoning and mentioned how my little house (whom I did not call "The Poderosa") had only been mine for two years but it had become my home, and although all the above-mentioned businesses included in the re-zoning were fine types of businesses, there was a place for them and Bet Avenue was not the place. Then I walked back to my seat in a daze.

My dad, who had been standing up, sat down with me. He said, "I was going to speak too, but you said everything so well there was nothing I could add." Awww, I know you were saying that to make me feel better, Dad. And it did.

Only one other person got up to speak. He owns the business two doors down from my house, an insurance office, and he spoke against the re-zoning too. He spoke quite eloquently, and was wearing a suit, which was a nice plus, seeing as how I was in cotton pants, a polo shirt, and tennis shoes.

I remember while I was blathering on at the podium actually thinking in my mind, "Damn, I write. I should have written something down to read to these jokers." I still can't believe it didn't hit me till I was actually talking.

And that was it. Me and Mr TheCompanyHeWorksFor. No other of my neighbors saw fit to come. The council quickly called the planning commission up onto the stage for a pow-wow, and the planning commission asked me if I realized this re-zoning was actually a good thing for me. "Hmm?" I said. Seems the M-1, or "light commercial," also includes lumber yards, mining battery manufacturing, and several other businesses they named off, businesses which, even if they were included in the M-1 class, and I'm not sure they are, wouldn't fit in any of the lots on Bet Avenue. They kept telling me the new zone would be more restrictive. I wanted to say, "Yeah, I'll remember that when I have a gas station beside my house." But I'm a lady, well, actually I'm not so much a lady as I am chickenshit, and I said nothing.

And in the end, justice, or the lack thereof, was swift. The planning commission sat down, one person said they proposed approval, and bing bang boom bim bam bom, all six members said "approved." So much for blathering impassioned speeches about your home.

The council re-convened, and I turned to Dad and said, "Let's blow this popstand," and he said, "Why not, they've basically told you to piss off." That made me smile and we headed out, where in the lobby we had to walk right through the entire planning commission standing there patting themselves on the back. And one particular member of the planning commission was having a private tete-a-tete with Hadji, a rich local layabout who thinks every growing blade of grass is his own personal excuse to buy land and build something on it. To quote the title of an Elvis Costello song, couldn't call it unexpected.

If one good thing came from the night, it's that on the way out I saw Mr TheCompanyHeWorksFor and his family, who were also told to piss off and were blowing that popstand as well. I went over and introduced myself and thanked him for speaking, and he said he was disappointed, but that I shouldn't worry from where I was because if ever the man who's beside of me (a very small and quiet printing company) decided to sell his land, they were buying it to make improvements on his office. And they're very big on "community improvement," so I felt a lot better about that.

Of course, he could be lying through his teeth. It's just that I trust him a hell of a lot more than I trust anyone in any capacity of our town government.

And I didn't even get thrown out.