King County Metro’s #10 route is a trolley service, from downtown to Capitol Hill. It’s been running since 1903, and unlike most buses going downtown, it doesn’t travel north-south on 3rd Ave, but instead goes west on Pine, or east on Pike. This makes it noticeably less bumtastic than other routes, but unless you’re going to or from that narrow sliver of downtown, you’ll need to take another bus to get where you’re headed.
I of course came in on the rare but reliable #99 bus that runs past my house, then switched to the eastbound #10. For this first stretch, downtown across Interstate-5, the #10 is identical to the #3, which see.
The #10 east and westbound both follow Pine Street east of Bellevue Ave, taking us through Gaytown, land of many upscale bars and gyms, hunky dudes wearing tight jeans and leather, and gorgeous dames with crew-cuts.
The first sign to catch my attention was Mama’s Pizza, which googling later from home was revealed to actually be Hot Mama’s Pizza. Reasonable prices, but not sold by slices, which means I’d have to buy a whole pizza, which means I’d eat a whole pizza, which frankly sounds fine to me.
We go past the Egyptian Theater, closed for months as repairs continue, following a burst pipe that flooded the interior. I’m hoping they’ll be open again in time for the film festival in May — it’s the festival’s principle venue. I’m only rooting from a distance, though. I don’t do the festivals these days. Can’t handle the crowds.
The bus crosses Broadway at Seattle Central College & the marvelous Blick Art Supply shop, and then past Cal Anderson Park and the disappointing Teto’s Cantina.
To your right is the Seattle Police Department’s East Precinct, which white-flagged itself during CHOP/CHAZ in 2020. A little further on the same street there’s the Northwest Film Forum, highly recommended by me, though I always walk there the long way, to avoid going past the police station.
Dingfelder’s Delicatessen is rumored to be excellent, and I ought to give them a try. Haven’t been there yet, though, and instead I pledge allegiance to the unimaginatively-named but yummy Sub Shop in West Seattle.
North on 15th Ave is Kaiser Permanente, health coverage I’ve had when I’ve had health coverage, and emphatically don’t recommend.
The Red Balloon Company delivers helium-filled balloons of any color, which looks hokey and is presumably overpriced, but younger me would’ve spent the money and loved it.
I’m intrigued by but don’t quite understand Punk Rock Flea Market. In what looks like a former grocery store, it’s “the Pacific Northwest’s favorite underground shopping experience,” taking up most of a full block, but it’s not open often — once monthly Capitol Hill Autonomous Swap Meets on the third Saturday, and once every three months there’s what’s called Quality Flea Center.
Next door to NuFlours gluten-free bakery, there’s an old-style apartment building that calls itself Fredonia. I only know the noun as the fictitious country from the Marx Brothers’ Duck Soup, but that’s Freedonia spelled with two e’s not one. Wikipedia tells me that with one e, it’s a term “coined by Samuel Latham Mitchill, coupling the English word ‘freedom’ with a Latin ending. Mitchill proposed it as a replacement name for the United States. It failed in that regard, but became the name of many towns and cities.” And an apartment building on Capitol Hill.
ShopRite is, was, or seems to have been a chain of small neighborhood convenience stores, long predating 7-Eleven and such. There were a few in Kansas City when I lived there, if I’m remembering right, and to my surprise, there’s one on 15th Avenue… or there used to be. I stepped off the bus to explore it, but the building was padlocked and empty inside, like my stone cold heart.
Getting onto the next #10, the route continues on through an old-money residential area, with Volunteer Park across the street. The houses are all a hundred plus years old, and most seem very well-maintained. It’s a neighborhood where I could never live, and would never be invited to visit, but the park is nice.
At the end of the line, of course, it’s everybody off so’s the driver can have a smoke. At the corner where I waited to catch the same bus back to town, a four-man crew had been hired by some local millionaire to blow and rake all the autumn leaves from his stretch of the sidewalk. To these men, all Mexicans, the property line was as real as a Federation force field — beyond that invisible line the leaves remained untouched, but within the millionaire’s fiefdom, all leaves were bagged and trucked away, no leaf left behind.
My verdict for the #10 is YES. It’s a short route, and it doesn’t mess around. No detours onto side streets, no loops out of the way, and only a few harmless bums and fentanyl-heads were riding in the back rows. It’s a nice and quick ride from downtown to Volunteer Park and vice versa, running every twenty minutes most of the time.
On my ride back, when the bus crossed Broadway, you couldn’t see it but I knew Dick’s was only two blocks away, so I rang the bell, stepped off, and got myself two Deluxe with two fries. This is the danger of Capitol Hill. If I lived there again, Dick’s would see me daily, and there’s be at least 75 pounds more of me.
1/31/2025
Leave a Reply