The Mayor and I are Just Like THAT.

I've just about had it with middle-of-the-night train whistles. In fact, I think train whistles should be banned 24/7 from all crossings already protected by cross-arms/lights/bells. If a stop sign is sufficient warning to prevent me from pulling out in front of a loaded semi going 65 MPH, why must cross-ams, lights, and bells be supplemented with a 20-second, 113db, blast from a train whistle to prevent me from driving around the cross-arms and into the path of a 15 MPH freight? It makes no sense. But isn't it typical? We subject everybody within a 2-mile radius of every crossing to whistle noise because some moron might deliberately drive around the cross-arm and collide with a train!
Train whistles at crossings are an outdated and unnecessary holdover from the days when none of the crossings were equipped with safety equipment. Heck, with the proliferation of cell phones and 2-way radio technology, they probably aren't necessary to signal startups and backups anymore.
Anyway, I went before the city council last night to urge them to impose a nighttime whistle ban at the crossings near my neighborhood. I was invited to speak by the city manager, who also lives near the crossings. He feels the same way I do, but felt like his motives might be suspect if he were to make the appeal.
I got there about 15 minutes before the meeting started and sat nervously going over my notes. About 5 minutes before the meeting started, I saw the city manager and went over to say, "hi". He asked if I had already "signed up to speak". I didn't know what he was talking about. He said there is a clipboard outside council chambers that people who want to address the council are supposed to sign. I went outside and found the clipboard on a shelf that is normally strewn with tourist brochures, realtor cards, newspapers, etc. The sign up sheet was there, but there was nothing to write on it with. As I was looking around for a pen, someone handed me one with a big plastic flower taped to it. I wondered if it was the "official" sign up pen, or if this person was "Chuckles the Clown."
I signed up, went back inside, and took my seat just as the mayor called the meeting to order. He started off by asking everyone to join in a politically correct prayer substitute "moment of silence" - which lasted about 20-seconds. Next, we all stood up and said the Pledge of Allegiance together. It felt really awkward. I haven't said the Pledge of Allegiance in a long long time. Then we got down to business.
The mayor announced that three people signed up to speak to the council. He went on to "remind" us that we each have 3 minutes to make our comments, "and he'd be keeping track of the time". THREE MINUTES?!! Nobody told me I had to limit my comments to 3 minutes! I had no idea how long my comments would take. 'Talk about panic! I thought about what I should eliminate from my speech to make sure he didn't cut me off before I covered the real important stuff.
The first speaker wanted to present a couple of awards. That took about 6 minutes. (I guess the time keeper can be distracted by pats on the back.) The second speaker was concerned about infrastructure. I thought she raced through her presentation to get it all said in 3 minutes... just like I was going to do. Then, it was my turn.
I walked up to the podium and started. I skipped my opening humorous commentary on city hall and went right to the issue. I got it all said, pretty much in the order I had planned, and thanked the council for the opportunity to bring the issue before them.
The mayor thanked me, then turned to the city manager (my cohort) and asked if he had time to pursue the matter. The city manager said, "Yes I do, mayor."
BINGO!
Let's review how politics works:
First you make it difficult for anyone who isn't already "in the know" to get their appeal before the council. (Sign up sheet amongst the clutter. No pen).
Next, you throw up an arbitrary road block or two (3-minute limit).
But that only applies to anyone who doesn't already have an accomplice on the inside.
For the rest of us, the seasoned lobbyists, the fix is already in. We just start the ball rolling and the rest is as good as done.
So that's how politics works, boys and girls: Remember, it's not what you know, it's who you know.