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It's midweek at Smarty Pants, a motorcycle-themed bar in the heart of Georgetown's commercial strip, and manager Sam Oldfield is doing triage in the kitchen after the lunch rush. A couple of middle-aged guys in polo shirts and khakis sip tequila at the bar while a young couple dressed mostly in black munches on Smarty Pants' signature sandwiches at a corner table.

Kevin P. Casey

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— Click here to see more photos of Georgetown.

— Click here to read about Mayor Nickels pulling his proposal to build the transfer station.

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"What do you think of the transfer station proposal?" I ask Oldfield, over the din of the White Stripes and the occasional rumble of a passing semi. "You know, the trash site down the street?"

"Bullshit," Oldfield offers without hesitation. "It doesn't make this a desirable place to live," she says, noting that she lives a few blocks north in an apartment above Georgetown Records.

The city, at the behest of Mayor Greg Nickels, has for years considered buying a land parcel about a half-mile south of Smarty Pants, where Seattle's trash could be trucked in, smashed, loaded onto trains, and carried out of our sight. The City Council is currently wrestling with the idea and will vote on it next month, but an announcement about the proposal could be made as early as this week.

Of course, no one wants a giant trash compactor in their backyard. And if you've spent any time on Airport Way South, it's hard to imagine the transfer station being an enormous blight on an area that trades on its grittiness and is already a speedway for truck traffic. But to Georgetowners, that's exactly the point: They've already got their share.

Oldfield concedes that the neighborhood's industrial flavor was largely what drew her here two years ago. But she says Airport Way is already so dirty that Smarty Pants can't leave salt and pepper shakers on the outside tables because they'll be covered in dark-gray grime in a matter of hours. And the new transfer station could mean hundreds more truck trips day and night.

"There has to be some acknowledgment that people live down here," she says. Her message to the city: "Leave us alone."

Bounded by Boeing Field to the south, I-5 to the east, the Duwamish River to the west, and the main lines of the BNSF Railway and Union Pacific Railroad across the north, Georgetown is a crazy mishmash of industry on top of homes on top of industry. Along with parts of South Park, Georgetown is the only Seattle neighborhood where zoning laws allow industrial buildings side by side with single-family homes. It's also the only place where you can stand next to a train rumbling along, under an airplane taking off, and within arm's reach of a semi roaring by, all on the same corner.

Georgetown has a history of being the city's fallback for the unsightly and the ungainly. "When you can't find a place to put things, you put them in Georgetown," says Marianne Clark, a fourth-generation Georgetowner. It's where Seattle put its industry, freeway, airport, train tracks, and smokestacks. Houses were mostly chased out by the 1970s.

But lately, there have been signs that the Rodney Dangerfield of neighborhoods is getting some new respect. In 2005, residents mobilized and successfully lobbied King County to turn down Southwest Airlines' proposal to fly out of Boeing Field, a plan that would've added more than 100 flights over Georgetown every day. Last year, the mayor proposed creating a red-light district to house the city's strip clubs on the northern fringes of Georgetown and nearby SoDo. Residents again rebelled, and the City Council came up with a new plan (approved last week) for zoning that wouldn't isolate the clubs in one part of town.

Buoyed by these successes and growing political clout, residents hope the neighborhood is becoming less and less a place to dump the city's undesirables. But this, too, could have drawbacks, as Georgetown loses its status as a working-class hamlet. Home prices are creeping into the $400,000s, and in recent years, the popularity of early hipster hangouts like All City Coffee, Stellar Pizza, and the 9 Lb Hammer has made way for more spots to bar-hop on Airport Way, such as recent additions Calamity Jane's and the Georgetown Liquor Company. These places are packed weekdays and weekends alike.

"Ten years ago, if you saw someone walking down the street after dark, chances are they were casing a building to break into," says longtime resident Dan Lamb. "Now, it's couples strolling down the street checking out the restaurants."

Seattleites from all corners of the city are increasingly making the neighborhood a destination for something different. And Georgetown is serving up its shabby-chic image both in its growing strip of bars and restaurants, and during events like the Music Fest earlier this month and this weekend's (SW-sponsored) Artopia.

This is just the beginning. Plans to redevelop the 300,000-square-foot former Rainier brewery and cold-storage building on Airport Way could quadruple the size of old-town Georgetown and would certainly mean the end of local live/work space that's been costing 60 cents a square foot.

Some Georgetown residents whisper the names of other places, like Fremont, Belltown, and Ballard, like they're swear words—while others are too busy fighting trash to worry about trivial things like yuppies.