Ah, the West Island! A place where the “Garden City” dream finds its picket fence, two-car garage, and Agglomeration Taxes that could fund a small country. Yet, beneath the well-manicured lawns and Sears catalogue homes lies a dark, twisted secret: municipal zoning. Municipal zoning is like that eccentric aunt who insists on organizing family gatherings by categorizing everyone into absurdly specific groups. She'll tell you that the living room is strictly for those over 65 who love knitting, while the dining room is reserved for anyone named Bob who's a fan of jazz. She’s got the backyard split into zones for kids under 10 who prefer playing with green toys and another for millennials who exclusively like red sneakers. Somehow, she manages to turn the whole house into a jigsaw puzzle where everyone’s confined to their oddly specific niches, all in the name of "order and harmony," while the rest of us just nod and wonderwhere we fit in. Yes, my friends, the suburban experiment is a labyrinthine mess of rules, regulations, and loopholes that makes you question reality itself. Let’s take a journey through the strange and often hilarious world of West Island zoning, where logic takes a back seat and chaos rides shotgun.

A Department’s Crisis of Faith

“Man plans and God laughs” — a famous Yiddish phrase that I use when I explain what urban planning is to those unfamiliar with the profession. That’s because West Island urban planning departments sound like grand, visionary offices where wise sages plot the future of cities with the finesse of Michelangelo painting the Sistine Chapel. In reality, it’s less about sweeping plans and more about the dark art of zoning. Yes, urban planning departments have become a never-ending game of SimCity where every dream is crushed by zoning regulations that demand you build a seniors’ home in the middle of a highway. Forget grand planning; it’s all about navigating their bureaucratic maze of "you can’t put that there" and "this must be exactly 12 metres from that." So, if you thought urban planning departments were about creating harmonious, livable cities, think again—it's really just zoning's overworked and underappreciated side hustle.

A Map to Stop Everything

A West Island zoning map is like that ancient family recipe for meatloaf that no one actually likes but everyone is too scared to change. These maps were etched into stone tablets centuries ago (or at least it feels that way), and they haven’t budged since. No matter how many public consultations you host, those zoning maps stay frozen in time, like a sepia-toned photograph of your grandparents' awkward wedding dance. You could have a bustling tech hub sprout up in what’s still zoned for “green space” and a luxury condo that’s inexplicably classified as “industrial wasteland.” Trying to update a zoning map is like asking a cat to do your taxes—hopeless, frustrating, and bound to end with someone getting scratched.

The Mystical Land of Single-Family Homes

In the beginning, there was light—and then there was single-family home zoning. This magical decree that covers over 80% of residential land in the West Island ensures that only one house can occupy a huge plot of land, preserving suburban sanctity. But let’s be honest, this rule was implemented by someone who probably feared Plateau duplexes like they were zombies in a

post-apocalyptic nightmare. Ever tried to build an in-law suite for Grandma? Good luck! Unless, of course, you’re into black-market granny pods. Just don’t tell the zoning inspector about the "garden shed" with its own mailing address, plumbing, and mini-fridge.

Commercial Chaos: The Strip Mall Phenomenon

Ah, the boulevard strip mall. It's the zoning map’s love child, where nail salons, fast food restaurants, and vape stores coexist in blissful disharmony. But don’t you dare try to open a quaint coffee shop in single-family home zoning! That’s the kind of radical thinking that leads to *gasp* walkable neighbourhoods! West Island zoning has a knack for placing commercial land use in places so inconvenient, you’d think they were hidden by an overprotective parent. “Oh,

you want to start a business? Sure, but only if it’s 10 kilometres from any potential customers and next to a vacant Tanguay. Have fun!”

Parking Lots: A Sea of Asphalt

Now, let’s talk about parking lots—those vast, barren landscapes where cars go to roast under the sun. Ancient zoning regulations demand a parking space for every man, woman, and slightly oversized pet in the area. Have a business that attracts a dozen people? Better have fifty parking spaces, just in case. The irony is that these oversized parking lots often sit half-empty, a testament to the West Island myth that every human will arrive in their own vehicle. Because nothing says “community” like a sea of asphalt separating you from your destination.

How Much Does a Tree Cost?

Imagine a majestic forest, home to native trees, owls, and a squirrel named Barry who’s halfway through writing his memoir. Now picture this forest zoned as "vacant land," which in zoning language translates to "prime real estate for the next mega-mall or luxury condo complex." Apparently, the zoning laws see no difference between a serene woodland and a vacant lot perfect for a fast food drive-thru. So, while Barry is busy chronicling his acorn-related adventures, a bulldozer might just show up, all because some zoning map thinks a forest is just an empty canvas waiting for humanity’s latest glass architectural masterpiece. Poor Barry didn’t see that plot twist coming!

Conclusion: A Plea for Sanity

So, here we are, navigating the quirky and convoluted world of West Island zoning. It’s a place where common sense goes to die and where every plot of land is a battleground of bizarre regulations. If there’s one thing we can learn from this madness, it’s that zoning maps need a serious overhaul—or at least a good therapist. Until then, dear suburbanites, keep fighting the good fight, whether it’s for one free parking spot next to the REM, a giant unmowed lawn, or the right to open a coffee shop within walking distance. And remember, in the world of municipal zoning, laughter is your best defence against the absurdity, and tell your city councillor it’s time to call a therapist.

Piotr Boruslawski is a local community urban planner and co-founder of the Pointe-Claire Citizens’ Association.