The bathrooms aren’t for you anymore. The parks aren’t for you anymore. Good luck finding a trash can at a light rail station, or getting comfortable on a bench while a metal armrest stabs into your ribs. Your other seating options require $6 for over-sour coffee or surveillance from an underpaid librarian whose unofficial second job is now social worker. The bus shelters don’t shelter, the park closes at 10, and the street is a Ring doorbell showroom. But at least we’re solving the “homeless problem.” 

A few weeks ago, we reported how the city quietly locked up Seven Hill Park over Labor Day Weekend. The little Capitol Hill greenspace, next to a church turned swanky “Sanctuary” condominium building, would be closed for 60 days, or until just before Halloween. The city did this because people were living in the park and neighbors told us the residents of that swanky condominium had complained. Sanctuary’s building association did not return a request for an interview.

Parks said it put up the fence to address “bouts of negative park activity,” and might install new “amenities” hostile to sleeping, sitting and vibing. 

Two neighbors told us the people at Seven Hills were no bother (but a gun had once gone off, an incident the Seattle Police Department was unable to confirm), and the latest group had responsibly picked up its trash. A tourist from Atlanta, Georgia told us “Atlanta, Georgia said ‘fuck that.’ Councilmember Joy Hollingsworth dodged our questions and told us to reach out to parks for answers.

For this story, she got back to us and says residents would have a better idea of whether the fence has been an effective measure than she would. When we asked what “amenities” the city should install to prevent people from camping, she dodged again, saying tents and encampments had never been an issue for her or the community, only fentanyl use, “biohazards,” and “unsafe activity.” When we asked if anti-homeless architecture impacted the overall enjoyment of a park, Hollingsworth says the question was irrelevant to the closure. When we asked what public response she’d heard, she referred us to a public statement:

“I’ve heard from many of you who deeply value these parks as vital green spaces in our neighborhoods,” she wrote. “I totally agree. Access to safe, welcoming parks is essential for our community’s health and well-being. That’s why we are doing everything we can to address these issues and reopen both parks as quickly and safely as possible for everyone to enjoy.”

There you have it: 60 days is top speed. There were rumors that the city would close additional parks in Capitol Hill. However, those closures haven’t happened and none are planned, according to the Seattle Department of Parks and Recreation. 

Even though the homeowners on the council can’t comprehend it, in a neighborhood of apartment renters, two months without a neighborhood park can be suffocating. Those spaces are breathing rooms. Where else can a person take a call away from their nosy roommate? Leaning against a fence?

That’s exactly the idea. Since the city sees no problem fencing off Seven Hills Park, the public good must still be enjoyable. We attempted to find all the possible ways to enjoy a park that’s been de-parked. 

Photos by Billie Winter for The Stranger.

Masturbate behind the fence. The city has been playing hard to get with this Denny Blaine stuff, but we finally got the hint. You could have just asked. Something for you, something for us.

Play “Berlin Wall.” 

3D scan the area and create a VPE (Virtual Park Experience). With the Metaverse, we don’t need outside.

Use the fence as a bathroom. They’re hard to find in this neighborhood!

Use the fence as a backscratcher. Check for rust (and piss.)

Pretend you’re on the Love Lock Bridge in Paris. We don’t have the grit to protest like the French, but we can co-opt their whole romance thing. 

Tie a puppy player to the fence and leave him there. Ryan got away. 

Throw a bunch of baseballs in there. Have you seen Sandlot?

Find a Handhold: Those Seattle Bouldering Project gyms are too damn full and too damn expensive. The city thinks the fence is a solution. Climbers see a “problem.” (Check for rust and piss.) 

Step 1: release bunnies; Step 2: sell hunting permits.

Red Solo Cup Art. It can say whatever you want, but the holes are more rectangular than is ideal.

Lure a police officer in there and trap him like you’re a 7-year-old playing The Sims: Oh feebee lay! 

Tie balloons to the fence until it floats away. Up is based on a house in Seattle, so obviously, it works.

Tell the city the fence is an encampment. Found, fixed, reported, baby. The city will have 90 days to collect its fence.

Tunnels?

Role play! If you pretend you are conservative, an orgasmic-like pleasure will roll through your body like a freight train.

Astral project.

Stare longingly at the benches, the shady patches under the trees. If you spin it right, you can convince yourself this is like some kind of restrictive delayed gratification kink thing, which brings us back to masturbating behind the fence. 

Put a Ring camera on it. Call the cops whenever someone walks by.