To get to a sci-fi show at the Grand Illusion, I ought to be able to take the bus from my house to the Link, Seattle’s light rail system. Link goes to a station only a few blocks from the theater.

But the whole Link system has been having frequent meltdowns for months, and while they try to fix it they’re single-tracking the trains every weekend, causing unexpected interruptions. It’s easier and probably quicker to simply take the bus.

Once downtown, my bus would be the #70 to the U-District. It’s a route I haven’t ridden often, and since I was there with my pen and notepad, here’s my review: It’s damned cold. It was a literally freezing morning, and the driver had the heat off, so sitting on the bus you could see your breath.

“Yo, Captain!” I shouted after a block, but politely. “Could we please have some heat back here?”

“Sorry, heat no work,” said the driver in an accent I couldn’t pinpoint.

Ah, well — layers. That’s the lesson my wife taught me, living in the midwest, where it gets much colder than literally freezing. ‘Layers’ means you should wear clothes on top of clothes, and thank you darlin’, it worked. I was mostly comfy in my two pair of pants, wearing a shirt and thermal undershirt and a pretty good winter jacket, with a hat on top of my hat.

Northbound, the #70 starts at the south part of downtown, Yesler @ Prefontaine, a very bum-crowded and piss-drenched corner. For years, decades, the government done nothing to help, and now with Trump in charge, best the street people can hope for is that he doesn’t round them up for a fate worse than homelessness.

The bus goes up 3rd Avenue, same as most Metro buses downtown, past the same addicts and shuttered businesses, until turning east onto Virginia Street, in Belltown. At 5th @ Virginia there’s a fenced-off hole where a building once was and another building might be, but for now and for years it’s been just a hole.

Then Virginia Street crosses 6th @ Westlake, an intersection that’s changed so much I wasn’t sure I had my bearings, and in my notebook I scribbled, McD?, with a question mark. A few days later, internetting at home, turns out I was right.

On a tiny triangular patch between those three streets, there’d once been an unusual and, believe it or not, memorable McDonald’s. The lot was too small for parking, and the streets were far too busy for a drive-through, so that McD was entirely walk-up, with a pleasant seating section on the second floor. I worked there for a few shifts, on loan from a different McD a mile away. Every McDonald’s sucks, of course, but that quirky little McD on that triangular sliver of land had been one of the least sucky.

Even that can’t be allowed in our all-sucky era, and I’m not even sure what’s replaced that McDonald’s. It’s all an Amazon office area now, every building indistinguishable from every other building. Don’t even know what I recognized at that intersection, except the intersection itself.

The ride continued past more fancy but factory-built buildings, with fancy but factory-built people on the sidewalks, and of course a few homeless folks at every corner. “Amazon gift cards accepted,” said one bum’s cardboard sign.

The bus turned onto Fairview Avenue, and went past something called Recovery Cafe. I jotted it in my notebook, but wasn’t sure — is it a trendy, expensive coffee shop, or a charity for the homeless? Google told me later, it’s the latter.

Next came the headlines condominiums from a different side than I’d seen on the #8. The concept still makes me queasy — headlines from the newspaper that used to be there, when there were newspapers and when there was news, plastered across a 21st century high-rise that’s otherwise just another high-rise.

Near Fairview @ Thomas there’s a skeleton building — another modern idea that makes me frown. There’d been a building there, apparently an interesting building, but it’s been torn down, except for the front-facing external wall. Something new and ugly is under construction behind the old wall, and when it’s finished the old wall will be stapled to the new wall, giving the new building its only hint of character. The character of a corpse, if you ask me.

You’ll notice I’m not writing about anything pleasantly interesting out the window — restaurants or theaters or parks or libraries I’d like to visit. That’s what I want on a bus excursion, but there was nothing like that along that stretch, or at least nothing of interest to this old, poor, retired man.

Even what caught my eye, caught it only for ridiculousness, like a sign that said, Meat Smoking Moot Seattle, and the insufferable international chain restaurant that Googling the words revealed behind the sign.

The cheapest meal is $46.95, and they promise you’ll still be hungry leaving the restaurant? No thanks.

You know you’re someplace phony when so many of the businesses have made-up, nonsensical names, and so many nonsense names passed by the bus’s window that I may have missed a few. There’s Neb, and Ochio, and Artly, Utant, Nohm, Voxx, Zūm, Ren, Ananya, Onni, Grito, Landro, and something called Google. No, I am not making up any of this.

Eventually the bus takes a few turns and we’re at South Lake Union, beside the South Lake Union Trolley (SLUT) tracks, near the Museum of History and Industry, which I’m still cheerfully boycotting.

Beside the lake was an industrial and marina district when I grew up here, but there’s not much industry left, except there’s still the Lake Union Dry Dock, with its very big sign. I’ll apologize in advance, but the same stupid wisecrack comes into my head every time I’ve seen that sign since a memorably frustrating night parked under it, circa 1980: Lake Union Dry Hump.

Now the bus is on Eastlake Ave, rolling through a quiet and kinda upscale neighborhood, but at least it’s a neighborhood, not like the high-rises of a few minutes earlier.

And at last, there’s something worth seeing out the window, worth maybe coming back and visiting. In an old building with some non-stapled-on character, there’s 14 Carrot Cafe. Turns out it’s a breakfast spot with the expected bacon and eggs et cetera, but also offering carrot cake-pancakes, and carrot cake-cake. I’m a big fan of breakfast and a bigger fan of carrot cake, so I’ll be there soon.

The bus turns onto a street too narrow for buses, Allison St, which passes through the gray darkness under the massive interstate highway high over our heads. After that, with a long stretch of good traffic-light luck and nobody ringing the bell or waiting at any of the bus stops, the route’s last few blocks went by in a 30 mph blur, over the University Bridge and into the University District, Campus Parkway to 15th Ave to 43rd Street, and I’d reached my destination and the end of the line.

In an upcoming post, I’ll bore you about the movies, which were not boring at all.

As for the #70 route, there’s not a lot to see out the window, but it’s an OK line for speed, doesn’t meander with any side-jaunts, most of the buses have heat, and it gets you from downtown to the University when the light rail won’t.

1/27/2025

Transit Takes

itsdougholland.com 
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