Time Warp @ City Hall

Well, it's no wonder they say "you can't fight City Hall". City Hall can't fight. But it can surely suffocate you to death with a limitless supply of stilted language and humorless rigamarole.

Yesterday I went to City Hall to support my church in defending the right of the local food bank, "The Compass", to offer services other than just handing out food. Against this was a group of citizens who lived nearby the food bank. They didn't enjoy the aesthetic of the poor, and most certainly didn't approve of the rufffians who hung around the front door of The Compass - "one guy was lying on the grass" (Imagine! Lying on the grass, indeed.) The citizens group wanted to curtail the activities of the food bank so that more ruffians don't come by and take the computer skills or ESL classes. I can only imagine their fear as the riff-raff filed in for Saturday morning Bible study.

Six super-bored looking city councillors sat in a semi-circle, struggling to maintain the impression of wakefulness as person after person came up to the mic to have their say. The sun set and rose again. Finally the councillors voted, in favour of The Compass. Hurray!
Then I saw a clock.

Somehow, only two hours had passed.

Is this what happens at City Hall every day?

I can't help wondering about those city councillors, trapped there, day after day, having to contemplate for hours on end the finer points of such fascinating subjects as the required width of driveways. Why would a person ever want this job? And why would they kiss multiple butts and babies in order have it? Does it feel that awesome to have another human being refer to you as "Mister Chair"? Maybe the semi-circular set up functions as a sort of faerie ring, retarding the aging process and buying eternal youth for whoever resides inside it. That would help explain some of the time warp effects inside the council chambers.

I don't expect to ever understand this - I can only hope that I never have a beef with City Hall. To go and watch the proceedings is one thing. But if for some reason I had to go take on this monolith and attempt to reason with it, or make it change in some way, I cannot anticipate any reason for optimism. City Hall would just snake out its tentacles, grab me, and with infinite patience and malice, submerge me in its swamp of form submissions and regard for the proper terms of address.

If I ever have to go back, (and I recommend this plan of action for you as well), I will employ the services of a wizard of some kind, or at least leave a trail of breadcrumbs so i can find my way back to the world I'm familiar with  - a world that runs on a 24 hour clock.