City Council: The Night we witnessed HOPE.

A funny thing happened on the way to the opera house: a beacon of hope and possibility in a desert of challenges.

It was Tuesday, July 14. Your dear Lady was on her way to Death Valley in answer to an invite, a casual chat about reviving their beloved opera house with Lady Whistledale and Friends. Even in this heatwave one had to answer, and we were well on our way, me and my driver Luigi.

First the AC gave out, and you do not want to see this Lady in any stage of melting, I assure you. I left the curtain between Luigi and myself open just enough to keep an eye glued to the now exposed shoulders of that strapping young lad. While I kept myself steady with highballs, extra ice, he responded to the warm up by stripping down to his Andrew Christian's. No argument here.

Somewhere out there we discovered, both of us staring at our flat tire and taking no further action, that while Luigi was pretty - the mesh pink trunks served us both well - he was not very handy. Thus began the long wait for Triple-A.

We retreated to the car. Luigi fell asleep in the front seat, curled up like a satisfied cat. Lady Whistledale resumed self-care-extra-ice in the back and then tuned into that night's Glendale City Council Meeting.

It would be the first full meeting of a newly elected council, the last two years having been a train wreck of egos, accusations, personal attacks, power mongering, sabotage, hate, bullying, transphobia, and an eternally clutched sister who can't shut up.

Not this night! Compulsive Council Critic-slash-racist-slash-transphobe-slash-misogynist-slash Mike Mohill was at GUSD for reasons no one knows as was his weekly cohort, the raving, shrill, pointless, fact bereft, self-serving lunatic Beth Brooks - who devoted her entire talking time at BOE to dumping on a previous speaker, leading everyone to wonder what she would have spoken about had that previous person not. Clearly no plan follows her, just the unfortunate need to engage a clock out loud. And in public.

Minus the shit show combo, what we had instead was ... a city council meeting, Just a city council meeting, boring and drama-free. It was glorious.

Luigi and I checked into our Marta Becket's rooms well after midnight. Warren, our AAA-Extraordinaire, not only got us rolling, he got the AC going as well. The night is warm, the stars are brilliant, the roads were clear, the Lady is refreshed, and Warren is knocking at my door. Right on time.

Happy Hope, Glendale.

Normal, Glendale CA. Minus the decor.