Back in the 90’s, before Ballard Ave. really popped, the Smoke Shop was one of three bars on the northern tip of the strip that catered almost exclusively to Deadliest Catch, all-day drunk, pack-a-day types. One of the three, the Sunset, looked nothing like it does today. It was just a dingy tavern with ripped plastic chairs and cheap drafts. The other, the Vasa Grill, had a porthole window that allowed drinkers to gaze longingly at Ballard’s industrial Puget Sound shoreline. Now the Vasa is the People’s Pub, where my brother likes the french fries.So today, the Smoke Shop is all that remains, the lone reminder of Ballard Ave’s crusty past. The matronly evening bartender is sweet as rhubarb pie, the clientele is more diverse than you might imagine, and any bar that stays open from 6 a.m.-2 a.m. is a winner, period. But here’s the one thing that annoys me about the Smoke Shop: you can’t smoke cigarettes in the bar. Granted, you can no longer smoke cigarettes anywhere indoors in Seattle anymore, but at the Smoke Shop, where people once smoked more cigarettes per capita than in perhaps any other bar in the city (it’s called the Smoke Shop, for crying out loud), the post-band, residual smell is that of a wet dog. I’d just as soon have two lit cigarettes shoved in my nostrils. At least that scent, while not exactly pleasant, is predictable, familiar and somewhat tolerable. Not so the wet dog odor, and there’s nothing much anyone can do about it — except repeal the smoking ban on a site-specific basis.I’m only half-kidding here. While I’ll admit that, as a non-smoker, I’d much rather walk into a smoke-free establishment than one where people are lighting up with vigor, I always considered it part of the drinker’s contract that walking into a bar meant walking into a place where people would be smoking. I didn’t always like it, but I lived with it, because the pros typically outweighed the cons at most of the bars I’d go into. And now, walking into a place like the Smoke Shop, the County Line, the Nite Lite, the Rimrock, the Hurricane, or the 5-Point doesn’t feel quite right without the waft of nicotine in the air, never mind the funk. Is there a way places like these can be granted some sort of special license, for legacy’s sake? I doubt it, but it’d be a lot cooler if there were.