The Salt Line, Vol. 30: Reader Mail — a Grounded Drone, Three-Digit Parking, and a Library in Boxes
Welcome back to The Salt Line, Volume 30. The mailbag is overflowing again, which is remarkable given that every letter in it is one I made up. That’s the arrangement here: the letters are fiction, the news inside my answers is completely real, and the advice is worth exactly what you paid for it. Let’s open some envelopes.
✉️ “My Wife Says the Drone Stays Home”
Dear Salt Line: I got a drone for Christmas and I’ve been waiting all year for the perfect subject. The Blue Angels are here this week. My wife says absolutely not. Please settle this. — Grounded on Gulf Beach Hwy
Grounded, I have consulted the authorities, and by “consulted” I mean I read that drone users could face jail time and high fines for flying during the Pensacola Beach Air Show. Escambia County’s emergency manager says they “strive every single year to make the airshow safer,” which is official language for: the sky has a guest list this week, and your Christmas present is not on it. The guest list is six Navy jets. Your wife wins. She was always going to win — she just didn’t know the county had put it in writing.
✉️ “My Brother-in-Law Has a Parking System”
Dear Salt Line: my brother-in-law claims he has a “system” for air show parking. He will not tell anyone what it is. Should we trust him? — Skeptical in a Middle Seat
Skeptical, here is the market your brother-in-law’s system is up against: last year, more than 3,300 free parking spots filled up overnight before the dress rehearsal. Overnight. Before the rehearsal. People camped in their cars to watch a practice run, which is the most beautifully unhinged thing our region does all year. This season, private lots have responded the way markets do, and spots are running three digits — parking has quietly become the beach’s first hundred-dollar asset that doesn’t float. Unless the system is “we left on Tuesday,” it isn’t a system. It’s a hope with a cooler in it.
✉️ “I Have a Library Book From 2011”
Dear Salt Line: I have a Foley Public Library book that has been due since 2011. It’s about time management. What do I do? — Anonymous, Obviously
Anonymous, fate has handed you a window. The Foley Library is packing up decades of memories as construction wraps on the city’s brand-new library — staff spent Monday afternoon boxing up generations of the collection for the move to the new state-of-the-art building. Which means right now, somewhere in Foley, there is a wall of cardboard boxes, and nobody alive can say with certainty what’s in all of them. Walk in. Set the book on the counter. Say nothing. In the chaos of a move, a fifteen-year-old return doesn’t read as a crime — it reads as found inventory. You’re not late anymore. You’re helping them pack.
✉️ “Is There a Local Team That Wins Things?”
Dear Salt Line: we’re a baseball family, but our hearts can’t take much more. Is there a local team that just… wins? — Weary at the Ballpark
Weary — hearken. While the town slept, eleven warriors traveled to a field called Village Park, and there Pensacola FC struck down Union 10 by a count of 3–2 to seize the Gulf Coast Conference Championship. A one-goal margin. A conference crown. And the saga continues: they now march to the South Region Final, banners presumably streaming. Pensacola has a soccer team playing for a spot on the regional stage, and half the county is only now learning this the way you just did — from a mailbag column. Go make noise for them. They’ve earned a bandwagon, and the seats are still cheap.
✉️ “My Teenager Bought a Wallet Chain”
Dear Salt Line: my 15-year-old came home with a wallet chain and now refers to everything as “mid.” Is this a phase? — Confused Dad, Ono Island
Confused Dad, it’s not a phase — it’s advance planning. The ATL Alt-Rock Fest is coming to the OWA Theater in Foley, its very first stop outside of Georgia. Let me say that plainly: a touring alt-rock festival looked at every venue between Atlanta and everywhere else, and chose Foley, Alabama first. Foley — home of Christmas in July, a library in boxes, and now, apparently, the alternative-rock frontier. Your kid isn’t rebelling. Your kid is local news literate, which is more than most adults can claim. Buy two tickets. Wear earplugs. Do not say “mid” out loud in front of anyone.
That’s the mail, folks. It’s a week where parking costs more than the concert, the concert came to Foley on purpose, and the soccer team did the winning that the mailbag demanded. Keep the letters coming — and keep the drone in the closet. Unlike the wallet chain, it’s got nowhere to be this week.
— Chris
