I thought Torture was Illegal: My time in front of the Community Board

Even with a negroni in my hand, I was not prepared to deal with Community Board 22A. Via Zoom, I watched as a group of thirty people I never met before take turns whipping personal insults at me. Mean, hurtful things. Wild crazy conspiracies. And one guy who outright called me a failure.

Tried to apologize and contextualize their assertions, even the flat the falsehoods. But, by the end, three hours later, I was a defensive ball of wrathful anger.

I don't when I stopped drinking that night, but I know when it started.

At around 6:30pm, I opened the teleconference link and entered my info. The app was all to familiar to me at that point after years of coronavirus lockdown meetings. In those three years, I spent nearly 80 hours in video conferences, whether we needed the visual element or not. It was a glimpse of the future in a terrible present.

Once in the room, a VA hall-style assembly room came into view, filled with the veterans of community board meetings. The breadth of ages amongst the crowd was startling: older gramps and grannies, beside middle age moms in hoodies and sweats, next to waif-like hipsters drenched in irony. There was a hierarchy, an older woman pointing to fix a crest on a podium, while a tween-looking man directed a dad-bod to something printed in the agenda. I was nice to see, democracy across the generations, in action.

I did not know when my attorney would begin his presentation, or how many others were there to present that night. I sunk into my home office chair after the long day's work and made a drink for my wife and I. She relaxed from her own long day with the dogs in the living room. Wrongly, I assumed I would join her shortly.

First, the CB, the affectionate acronym for Community Board, did some housing cleaning. Motions here, calendars events there, and way in the back was the huddle group of people waiting to speak to the CB. We waited.

Forty-five minutes later, the first presentation began. Three attorneys and an engineer discussed their goal of turning the secluded and dirty underbelly the ramp the bridge into a community park, with dog runs, seating, happiness and sunshine. They flipped through halcyon pictures of toothpaste smiles and fit bodies biking in the two thousand square foot oasis, once occupied by ne'er-do-wells and illegal parking.

The CB had questions: Where is shade for the elderly? The presenters huddled, and replied that they would look into it, somehow missing the four-lane parkway above creating perennial dusk in this gentrified zone. How we can keep greedy, adjacent shopkeepers from using the area for outdoor seating? Another huddle. Their answer: We'll look into it. How will access be maintained afterhours, so as not to allow illegal/illicit activity? Shoulder to shoulder, the combined wisdom of three lawyers and an engineer opined: We'll look into it... but maybe a fence?

Clap clap clap, and the next presentation started. This haggard, unfortunate woman didn't even try. Alone at the podium, she strummed through two boring pictures of a site before and after. The first was a large, sad-looking, disused car dealership. The next picture was now a large, mechanical and inhumane car dealership. Still no people, but now with more cars.

I did not understand why this presentation was so pathetic. I mean, the slick, empty-headed quartet before her were clearly reading to show their vision. Why didn't she prepare? I would have been livid if I were her client.

And then I understood. As I sipped my third negroni at around 8:30pm, the CB began to peck at this woman and her address. Why didn't your client turn this area into affordable housing? How would you protect children from high-hooded vehicles, like SUVs? Will their be electric cars, and do we want to support people like Elon Musk? Didn't already vote this idea down?

These people, generation after generation, with their own lived experience and identity, were a rapacious mob of nitwits on a power trip. The woman was there to present a new car dealership. Why bring up affordable housing? How could a dealership impact a worldwide market that makes high-hooded SUVs? What the fuck does Elon Musk have to do with this???

As the presumptively dejected woman stepped down from the podium, my attorney came up to bat. I was worried. Not about his presentation. He's skilled ULURP specialist who worked on both sides of these proceedings, for the government and for the public.

But this kangaroo was just getting started.

First, my attorney, Mr R, got up and flipped through the slides of the project: de-mapping and purchasing three thousand square feet of unmapped, and untaxed land directly behind the property we owned for over forty years. The land, with no access from the street, has been a forgotten lot in possession of the DOT, and left to collect roadside garbage, transients and their garbage, including drugs, feces, rats, and other wonderful things. Instead, we wanted to de-map and purchase the land to create a dining space, similar to other niche eateries in the area. We had the 50 experience running businesses, including pizzerias, and we can expand that into this unloved piece of Queens.

Mr R turned the CB once completed and waited to be pelleted with questions. One of the sweatsuit moms stood up: Who would want to eat there? As my attorney was about to reply, citing the innumerable dining sheds erected during the lockdown, the polyester-blend revolutionary screamed, "OPPOSING!"

The next twit questioned why a pizzeria concept. Why not Indian or an indigenous cuisine? Another dingbat followed up: Is there an air quality survey or noise survey? How will this affect the local hawk population? And of course, no questioning would be complete without: Why didn't your client turn this area into affordable housing?

And then, from another square in the virtual meeting came the Nordic voice dripping in cliche: I think we should use the area to build a garden for children.

Finally an old man raised his learned hand: What will be the affect on the rainwater retention and the catch basin capacity?

The question woke me from ennui and imbibed ABV. Was that a decent question?! I raised my virtual hand and Mr R pointed me out: Oh look! There's my client!

I was tapped to speak and gave a thorough explanation of the condition of the soil (impermeable from decades of plastics and garbage imbedded inside) and our plans to repair the topsoil as well as building a space to coexist in the ecosystem. I added this was a necessity as we did not want to flood our adjacent property during a storm.

Clap clap clap. Mr R sat down and the CB moved to vote on the project. But suddenly, a snafu. Would the CB be making ONE vote on the de-mapping (the act of removing a parcel of land from public use to private use) AND purchasing the de-mapped land? Or would it be two votes, one for de-mapping and the another for the purchase? The CB erupted into parliamentary pandemonium. Many members said one vote. Others insisted two votes. Mr R clarified it was one vote, from his experience anyway.

When a representative from the City Planning Department was asked to opine, the woman misread the section of the code and nearly started a riot. It clearly says de-mapping AND purchasing! So its unequivocal! Two votes!

Suddenly, Mr R was confronted with charges of trying to bypass the system and to confound the authority of the CB. After this meeting, that same woman from City Planning would have to write a letter personally apologizing to the Borough President and the CB for misrepresenting the section of the code. It should have been one vote.

Instead, a vote was held only to de-map. And that vote was not in our favor. We were faced with the wishful thinking of an out of touch mob: The area belongs to the City! We already lost so much land. Also, do we really need another Italian place?

Another waved a torch: What I'm hearing is that you want us to clean the lot and make sure it is a pristine area for the community to use as it sees fit! Right?

Another torch: Ha! the area is green! that means things can grow there! What a liar!

Then came the pitchfork: They ran a pizzeria there before and it failed, and it will fail again!

Quick Context: we did run a pizzeria years ago in the adjacent property, which we closed... to turn the space into commissary kitchen to meet the demand of our expanding restaurants. EXPANDING.

Up came the little yellow hand icon and out came a series of how-dare-you from my lips. Lowered my hand and took another sip. I was pissed.

By the time I signed out of the meeting, it fifteen minutes to eleven and my wife was in bed.

I was awake and angry. Lost track of negronis and slights against my character. I was not expecting a easy ride, but a least more than one sensible question. At least a chance to present a dream my dad had since he purchased the adjacent property 50 years ago: To build a great restaurant. To be part of the community.

But that night in front of the CB22A, I learned that good intentions and hard work meaning nothing in the face of egoism and power. The CB does not have the power to stop a project, only make recommendations. So, seeing their own powerlessness and insignificance, they flaunt their ideas to anyone who would hear only to make a point. Not good governance.

That was truly torturous.