At last night's Belltown public safety meeting, Mayor Mike McGinn, along with Police Chief John Diaz and other city officials, announced big plans for the neighborhood: a pilot project to clean urine, vomit, and other bodily fluids off the streets within an hour of being reported via a hotline number (beginning September 15), another pilot project to get low-level drug offenders treatment instead of jail time (starting early next year if funding comes through), and yet another pilot program that will pair patrol officers with mental health professionals to help identify and compassionately handle people suffering from mental health issues (slated for October 11).

But the 80 or so Belltown residents who came to hear the mayor speak didn't seem interested in hearing more about these potentially kick-ass programs—or getting updated on SPD's recent public safety initiative, which added 20-plus officers to Belltown streets on weekends (and will continue through the winter), or the Seattle Parks Department's plan to transform Bell Street into a parkway.

They wanted to hear the mayor's plans for trucking the homelessness out of Belltown, dealing with open-air drug deals, and curtailing the club scene. Because they're sick of all three.*

The first two issues McGinn succinctly addressed: "We live in a big city," he said. "We’re plagued with the problems that many cities have. We have a homeless population which the public has asked us to try to find solutions [for]. We’re going to do our damnedest to be compassionate and effective with your tax dollars... If ending homelessness and drug use was easy, it would’ve been done long ago."

But when residents criticized the mayor's proposed Nightlife Initiative, which would stagger bar closing times and cap noise levels at 80 decibels in mixed-use neighborhoods like Belltown that have active night scenes (among other things), his responses were less than persuasive. They were downright anemic.

"It’s pretty obvious you don’t care about noise," began one resident. "What we’re talking about is that 79 decibals would be okay at 3:00 a.m. with your windows shut. It's unreasonable that we can have blaring music and it’s okay. This is absolutely worthless to me as a resident. Maybe part of the problem was that not a resident that came up with this, only representative was a club owner and I think this reflects that."

To which McGinn responded: "We're going to go out, do some testing in public. We're trying to find the right balance."

"Random, staggered bar closings will inordinately impact residents in Belltown in social service programs," said Laurie Eckardt, program director for Dorothy Day House, which offers permanent housing and services for low-income women in Seattle. "How does this make sense for the community moderation? We're located right across from a nightclub. [Our residents] are working hard on their lives and they share these concerns."

"What the LCB has said is that they need to see community support to move forward," McGinn responded. "The first part of the discussion has to be getting out there, talking to the community, weighing pros and cons, and getting that assessment. Getting that public input."

The city is getting its input. As predicted, it doesn't appear to be coming from the section of the population that is excited to see it expand in healthy, safe ways—but rather from those who would like to see it smaller, quieter, and more well-organized, much like a rousing game of Bridge. To add your input to the pile, go here.

*The aged crowd had a Rip Van Winkle vibe to it, as if they'd collectively gone to sleep during the Great Depression in Redmond and awoken in Belltown. Aside from complaining about clubs, residents took issue with "thug street vendors" and "road rage cyclists" and "active homeless masterbators." I am not joking.