South Seattle Recycling and Disposal Station

Ok, I know this is a dump. But as fat as dumps go… it was pretty nice.
The reason I’m even bothering to do a review of a dump and giving it five stars is because the grounds of the place is amazing. The city really spent a lot of money making this place all pretty, with huge public art installations and landscaping. What really made it special, though, is that there were little artsy nicknacks all over the place, like handmade sculptures and windsocks placed throughout the grounds. You could tell that some one who works there took the time and effort to bring those items there for the enjoyment of the patrons. «Thank you!» to whoever this person is.
Yeah, the inside is gross, but that’s what it is spozed to be.

I never would have thought my second Unilocal review would be for the dump, but I had an experience here today that compelled me to Unilocal.
I just started a new job for a local startup company and had to run a huge truckload of paint cans to the dump. The paint was supposed to treated but there was a mix up and some of the paint was not solid. This wound up being a HUGE mess in the back of the work truck, never mind the fact you can’t dispose of wet paint. One of the employees came over to my truck and asked me whether the paint was still liquid. I sheepishly apologized, explaining my situation and trying to deal with the enormous mess. He pulled out a screwdriver and started helping me check to see which paint cans were treated and which were still liquid.
Partway through the process, I cut my finger pretty badly on a rusty can. He sent me up to the employee bathroom so I could get cleaned up. When I finished and exited the bathroom, a woman was waiting on me. She said she was just there to «check on me» and make sure I was ok. She then took me to their conference room so I could clean and bandage my hand up.
On my way back, a few employees asked if I was ok. Everyone was so kind and warm. It was really lovely. When I got back to the truck, the man who came over to help me had finished separating disposable paint from the liquid. He helped me drag the last bit of heavy garbage out of the truck. I almost didn’t care that my jeans and boots were ruined, I was honestly so touched by the kindness and warmth of everyone working here.
Even on the way out I was impressed. I was sent off with a compliment and an Otter pop. What a truly kind, sweet bunch of people working here. Made a sorta stressful day much nicer.

I paid 30 bucks to dump one stupid futon and frame. Seems rediculous. It just encourages people to dump single large items like that on the side of the road. The flat minimum fee shouldn’t be that much and is short sighted. Don’t punish people who want to do the right thing.

woHo! The new transfer station has opened. The old station was one of the most modern I’ve taken a dump run to, so not sure the reason for the new station. Must be part of that ungodly high property tax bill I pay biannually.
The experience at the new station is a little less exciting than the old. Reason being the big ‘olé pit you got the chuck your stuff into is gone. Now you shove your trash into a ground-​level area … boring!
Very helpful staff. Twice a couple guys came over to help me hoist junk out of my bed. Might of been because it looked like I was dropping off a body and they wanted to make sure my detritus was legit.

Yeah, it was smelly and we had to dodge a few trash trucks, but we no longer have to walk over a 4 foot tall stack of cardboard when we walk into our house. And dropping off recycling is free!
The place wasn’t too difficult to find. We used our GPS and then followed the signs to the disposal station. I was a bit worried we were in the wrong place when we saw all of the garbage trucks.
The guy at the entrance was really friendly — I think he flirted with me!!! I liked it. He gave us some vague instructions of where to go and waved us on. The cardboard recycling box is at the end of the «barn (?)». It was a bit tricky getting through the barn because there were multiple trash trucks backing into spots to dump trash. Luckily we didn’t get hit.
Easy (and smelly) as that.

Sometimes the garbage man just ain’t enough.
I mean, you like him, he’s sometimes kinda cute and well, I don’t really MEAN to have on a towel standing there dragging out the rest of the garbage, do I? Maybe I do.
But when that’s not enough, like you’ve realized you’ve been collecting all this crap that won’t go anywhere but to the dump, you have to take it there.
When you arrive, they’re pleasant, and tell you where you can dump it.
And it’s not too expensive.
But for the love of god it’s hard to find. Take a map and a shaman and you might be able to navigate yourself there.

I don’t know what it is about this place, but the people who work there seem to genuinely love their jobs. I recently had to visit this location five times during the course of one weekend while cleaning out my back yard, and everyone I had to deal with — from the booth attendants to the people directing traffic and cleaning inside of the disposal area — were all super-​friendly and approachable, and some were even funny!
Going to the «dump» is rarely a pleasant experience, but the folks that work at the South Seattle station make it a trip I actually look forward to!

Preface: I am not a girly girl. I like sports, I swear like a sailor, I own far more sneakers than I do heels, rarely — if ever — suppress a belch etc… I AM A GIRL however. When it comes right down to it, I have a vagina and all the other related parts. These parts are inflamed by certain things — Examples: cute little animals, hot shoes on the happy side; scary movies, bad smells and giant rodents indoors on the yucky side.
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I had some shit I needed to get rid of: my old mattress (that has been replaced by a king-​sized fluffy cloud of pure love) and a dilapidated dresser that NEVER SHOULD HAVE ENTERED MY BRAND NEW HOUSE IN THE FIRST PLACE (but that is another story and will not be told — because I am A ZEN BITCH AND I LET SHIT GO).
Being the super-​human freak that I am, I was going to drag, toss, muscle all this stuff to the dump by my lonesome (because this Zen bitch DOESN’T NEED ANYONE… mmph…). But then the SUPER FUCKING COOL Patrick G. asked what I was up to and totally volunteered to help a girl out since his lovely wife was stuck working all day and because he is the big brother I never (always) wanted.
We make our way there via my totally amazing and borderline psychic sense of direction (Google and Yahoo maps both had me getting there via Baja) and pull up to the railing that divides the actual pit of smelly dispair that is the dump from the rest of building. The ground is covered in a slimy, stinky glaze of horrific nastiness. The girl parts are HUGELY INFLAMED.
ME: Oh my god!!! It reeks like Folsom street after the Up Your Alley festival!!! ASS! DIRTY!!! DIRTY!!! My feet are touching the DIRTY!!!
Patrick: (all super fucking mellow) — God, it is a dump man.
ME: MY FEET ARE GOING TO REEK FOREVER!!! THESE SNEAKERS WILL HAVE TO BE BURNED!!!
Patrick: Hey man — is that an English Muffin?
ME: *VOMITS while dancing around in effort to keep my feet from touching the ground for too long*
Patrick: Gross man.
ME: YUCKY!!! DIRTY!!! GET ME THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!!! CUT OFF MY FEET!!!
Patrick: Hey man! Is that Dylan’s new song? I love Dylan.
ME: *VOMITS* Jesus! DYLAN on the radio on top OF EVERYTHING ELSE! FUCKING KILL ME.
The world starts to close in on me, I am certain that a smelly, dying goo is creeping up my legs, the smell of a large, gaping, monkey anus will not leave my nostrils. I pull out my super fucking awesome Knelow pocket perfume and cover my upper lip in the sweet smell of candy hippy. The Dylan song ends. We drive away from the dump. I breathe deeply. Testosterone levels begin to return to their normal levels. It’s going to be ok.
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Epilogue:
I am a pussy little girly bitch. Super.