By Ashley Toland Editor

Mobile’s one-stop future

Curious how big Mobile would be after allof the latest annexation attempts, I decided to take a little vacay to the future, so I jumped in the state-of-the-art Lagniappe time machine. After a slight problem with its flux capacitor was taken care of, I set the date to the year 2028, and made my way through space and time.

It took about two hours, as I got stuck in 2015, which let me just tell you, is a really rockin’ year for BayFest. (Apparently Nelly changes into a country artist at some point. I never thought “It’s gettin’ hot in here, so take off all your clothes” would sound so good with banjo and fiddle. But it does, y’all – trust. )

Anyway, my DeLorean landed right in front of the newly opened Whole Foods Store on Springhill Avenue and Broad Street (Job well done!), and I was pleased to see how much our beautiful city had grown. The RSA tower was now the second largest building in the city, as EADS’new skyscraper – finished in 2026, the year after the tanker contract was finally awarded to us – boasted eight more stories.

I made my way over to Government Plaza, where there were life-sized, bronze statues of my 2008 city councilpeeps, whose terms had long since ended.

CJ’s statue had a hat on. Reggie’s had a tennis racket in one hand and a baseball bat in the other. Gina was sitting in the Village of Springhill, and Connie was in front of the WeMo Senior Center. William Carroll stood atop a representation of “The Land Bank.” John Williams’ was standing and saluting someone – I’m assuming the officer of the month (that’s super important to him, as it should be).

And Fred’s almost made me cry. It had a button to push where he just talked and talked and talked and talked some more. It said his famous line, “Beat by beat. Street by Street. House by House.”

I tried to turn it off after a few minutes, but it wouldn’t stop talking. The infobot at the information desk told me you can’t turn it off. It talks for 30 minutes and then finally quits when there are several loud gavel bangs.

“Awww, that sounds just like him,” I said.

Suddenly I missed them.

There were garbage cans all over the lobby floor. The security robot told me the roof still leaks when in rains, as it had yesterday.

I just smiled, and said, “some things never change.”

“Hey,” I said to the securibot. “I noticed the land where the Mardi Gras park was supposed to be built is still empty. What’s the deal?”

“The answer to the question you have asked is,” he said as a light on his belly flashed as he retrieved the answer from his robot belly/brain.

“The Mobile County Commission and the mayor have just reached an agreement on the best use of the land, but they have not announced it yet. Do you have another question for me?”

“Well, yes, is Mayor Jones’ office still on the 10th floor?”

“Mayor Jones is no longer mayor of the city of Mobile,” the bot offered. “The new mayor’s office is still on the 10th floor.”

“Oh, what’s his or her name? I’d like to try and meet whoever it is.”

The bot just flashed a giant yellow smiley face on his belly and rolled away.

“Stupid robot,” I muttered.

I made my way to the 10th floor, where the receptionbot greeted me. I identified myself and the bot said the mayor had a15 minute window and was willing to squeeze me in.

After a few minutes, she ushered me back to the new mayor’s office.

I was shocked and amazed to see who, well, actually, what, the new mayor was.

He held out his white-gloved hand and said, “Welcome, Ashley.”

“Aren’t you the Wal-Mart smiley face that “rolls back prices?” I asked.

“Why yes, I used to be before I got this new gig, but now I just roll back taxes,” the smiley face laughed at his own joke.

“I don’t mean to be rude but how did this happen?”

“Well, after my predecessor annexed every single Wal-Mart in the county into the city, it was easy. I had a built-in constituency. I mean, look, Jones was smart. The people should have and did vote for annexation. It helped them, and it helped the city to become the biggest in Alabama, surpassing Birmingham years ago. And police and fire services improved dramatically. It really was a win-win for everyone. But my manager from Arkansas thought since Wal-Mart and the other box stores were such prizes, that we really needed to get in on the action.”

“I see. Was it a difficult race?” I asked.

“Oh, not really. Think of the typical Wal-Mart shopper,” he said.

“The morbidly obese?” I asked.

“Yes, exactly. The ones who ride the scooters. There are tons of them here. They are an entire demographic themselves,” he confirmed. “Our ‘New Plan for the City’ included promising 50 additional scooters per store. Additionally, you can do all of your city business at any city Wal-Mart – tags, licenses, anything. We even have traffic court set up in a few of them. It is much more efficient, and people love it,” he said. “It’s your one-stop shop for EVERYTHING.”

“I guess it was a really easy race for you then?” I said.

“Well, Jones was easy, for sure. His age was a big issue and this year, people were really looking for a change agent. But the Super Target Bullseye really gave us a run for our money,” he said.

“Oh, Target ran too?”

“Yeah, but it was really easy to paint him as a liberal elitist. I mean, for God’s sake they have Starbucks in all of their stores. That sure as hell don’t fly with the scooter set,” he chuckled.

Confused by all I had learned, I decided to race back to 2008 to try and warn the mayor about this horrible corporate take-over of our city.

But before I left, I had to ask, “Mayor Smiley Face, I hear you and the county figured out what you are going to do with the land where the Mardi Gras Park was once planned to be. Will you tell me?”

“Absolutely, sugar,” he winked. “Super-Duper Wal-Mart.”

The vote to annex four new unincorprated areas and another Wal-Mart into the city is set for Tuesday, Oct. 7.

Ashley Toland is Lagniappe editor. Contact her at ashleytoland@lagniappemobile.com.

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