Georgetown is the Seattle neighborhood that's currently experiencing the sharpest increase of recreational businesses like coffeehouses, restaurants, bars, art galleries, and gift shops. Mid Beacon Hill sits between Georgetown and Columbia City, which is probably experiencing the second sharpest upswing. As we've already established, there's nothing on Beacon Hill -- it's just a boring bedroom community with some nice views. The people here in MBH who like to go out nearby either go east to Columbia City or go west to Georgetown. We like both, and I can talk about Columbia City later, but for now let's just say we align ourselves with Georgetown.
For some reason -- perhaps because I have been drinking this afternoon and evening -- I labeled Mid Beacon Hill as "MBC" on this cropped map of Seattle:
The last two neighborhoods to experience this upswing were Fremont and Ballard, which are pretty much done changing from charming to gross. (The last time we went out in Fremont, my husband was propositioned by a chubby drunk girl in a shiny tank top who tempted him with the line "Let's go outside so I can give you a mind-blowing titty fuck.") Not that there's anything wrong with tank tops and titty fucks, and I certainly can't say that I don't enjoy a nice wine bar and fancy boutique as much as the next Seattle high-tech creative-corporate drone, so I'm not really complaining, mind you (because I have no illusion that I am not part of the solution but part of the problem), just observing.
So even though Georgetown is heading the way of Ballard and Fremont, largely due to people like me, I still love Georgetown. I've testified on their issues at Seattle City Council and Planning Commission meetings, and I will testify again in front of City Council on Monday (more on that in another post), because even though I am actually a shy introvert, I will not sit back and let those people continue to shit on the South End, not without a fight. OK.
Over a hundred years ago, Georgetown was its own city, and it was home to the Rainier Brewery. What's going on with these old brick buildings you ask? Why, they're being turned into condos, I reply. It's not the worst thing that could happen. The worst thing that could happen is they could let Southwest Airlines move into Boeing Field, they could turn Corgiat Avenue into a dump, and they could open up the city's only strip club zone at the north edge of the neighborhood. All of which has been proposed by government officials in the last couple years. I love the South End, and I think that the responsibility that comes with the privilege of living here is that you need to continually protest these things, even if you hate dealing with all that bureaucratic crap.
Oh, man, I don't know about you, but after all that complaining, I need a beer. Let's go to Smarty Pants.
This morning, when I was buying three huge planters at a going-out-of-business sale, a guy asked me if I was a landscaper. I assumed that he had been impressed with my quick assessment of the store and my choice of three gorgeous containers. So I said no and asked him why he thought that.
"Because your boots are really dirty," he said.
Good Christ, this is going to hit the spot.
I've often admired the ceiling tiles here. I hate eating under cheap acoustic tiles, like the kind they use in office buildings. But here it's clear that they give a shit.
I bet people who are into cars are into this car.
I'm going to take photos of storefronts along Airport Way now.
People sometimes fight over the semi-outdoor tables at Nine Pound Hammer. I know I have.
I'm not into cars, but the El Camino is my favorite. I happen to drive a Buick LeSabre, my fourth car and my third hand-me-down gift car. My husband gets to drive the fuel-efficient Toyota Echo that I bought because his commute is longer.
The Vespa dealership. Georgetown is into two-wheeled vehicles.
The old Rainier Brewery.
Seattle Magic Wheels is a black motorcycle club.
Lucky's Choppers is a Harley club, I assume.
People who are into cars are into the Galaxie 500.
Calamity Jane's is a new restaurant. I haven't been there yet.
George is a beautiful little gift shop with a couple of very cool owners, who I see around the neighborhood sometimes. They're always fighting for the neighborhood, bless their hearts. But their business hours are very limited -- 10 to 4 on weekdays and 11 to 3 on some Saturdays. I can never go gift-shopping midday on weekdays, and the last couple times I've gone there midday on a Saturday, they've been out, like today. Oh, well. I will have to buy a bunch of things there next time I notice they're open, because, as I recall, they have very cool stuff.
A lot of motorcycle admiring takes place in Georgetown.
I love the careful and correct use of the apostrophe here: "I laugh 'cause they funny."
I have not seen the Rat City Rollergirls, though I've talked to Cherry Jubilee at parties a couple times. I have seen the Rose City Rollers down in Portland, though. Reportedly, the big, aggressive Seattle girls kick the Portland chicks' ass.
I wonder what will go here.
This building is said to be haunted. I love hearing shit like that.
Motorcycle repair shop?
And, finally, the old pharmacy. It's hard to believe this place is still there.
Let's take a peek inside.