Saw Mitchell Rasansky on Monday, and I had just one question for the former Dallas City Council member: What's happening with his giant empty building on Lower Greenville? You know the one — the 35,000-square-foot blank space with the Frisco-flavored parking lot at the intersection of Greenville and Belmont avenues. The one that's been empty for more than two years, after it sat vacant for three years between Whole Foods' move to Lakewood and Walmart's contentious redo, short-lived move-in and eventual see-ya-suckers.

Right. That one.

Rasansky, collector of Dallas properties and classic sports cars, shrugged and said he had absolutely no idea what's happening with that property. He collects a paycheck from it, but the building's future is not his problem. And it won't be for another, oh ... 14 years.

Oh, jeez. Yeah. That's right. I totally forgot. Rasansky and a partner own the building, but they don't control it. Because when Walmart suddenly shuttered the neighborhood market in January 2016 — about three years after it opened — the company said it would make good on its lease agreement, which runs through 2032. By which point Mitchell Rasansky will be 95.

"I drive by it all the time," the former council member told me Tuesday. He owns several properties over there, including the 'round-the-corner 7-Eleven. "And every time I'm just shaking my head, just shaking my head. It's a prime piece of real estate. And for it to go unused is beyond me. I am not enthused about it."

The lights were on though nobody was home at the former WalMart at Greenville and Belmont avenues on Monday. (Michael Hamtil / Staff Photographer)

Same goes for the neighbor and surrounding property owners. Like Simon McDonald, co-owner of The Libertine, who calls it "a giant empty eyesore" across Greenville from his bar. Or Jon Hetzel, who manages properties for Madison Partners and said he'd love to see it rezoned for offices — or residential, even, to add some density to that stretch of Greenville. Course, he isn't holding his breath because of Walmart, Rasansky and a neighborhood that's already prepping for those 475 new Trammell Crow apartments at Belmont and Greenville.

I wrote about the Walmarting of Lower Greenville at the end of 2011 and beginning of 2012, when it went from rumor to permit to lawsuit. Neighbors hated everything about the Walmart, from the bright lighting to the uptick in truck traffic. They tried to make it work; so, too, did Walmart, which, last I heard, sunk around $3 million to make over the building, which also housed a Blockbuster Video. Yet it still surprised approximately zero people when Walmart, a killer of small-town mom-and-pops and destroyer of neighborhoods, skipped out on Lower Greenville. And it broke no one's heart.

It's been vacant so long, so often, it's almost taken for granted now. I never even think about the empty building till I'm stopped at the Belmont light or stuck in traffic heading to or from Good Records, the Char Bar or my few remaining go-to's along the cleaned-up, slowed-down Greenville Avenue. Briefly lived on Martel a lifetime ago, around the time Josh Alan was playing the Winedale every Monday night and the Royal Rack was shoving-room-only. But now I'm just a tourist down there.

I'm with Rasansky: I don't get how it's still empty, and the old Walmart's not my problem either. So I found the man to whom the problem does belong: Rick Ikeler, the senior vice president at SRS Real Estate Partners tasked with finding someone willing to pay $19.50 per square foot.

The view from the former Walmart site at Greenville and Belmont avenues in Dallas, where Trammell Crow Residential is building the 475-unit Alexan Lower Greenville. (Michael Hamtil / Staff Photographer)

Ikeler said he's had plenty of interest in the place, occasionally from a grocery store — yeah, even with Trader Joe's a couple of blocks away — but mostly from family entertainment centers. You know, your Jumpstreets and Pump It Ups, otherwise known as the trampoline parks-slash-bacteria farms where your kids' friends insist on holding every birthday party between the ages of 5 and 9. I still have flashbacks.

Except, Ikeler said, the ceilings are too low for most of the trampolineatoriums: They need 25 feet worth of clearance, while the empty Walmart only goes to 21 at dead center. Too short for kids to get their jump on.

It's also too big for just about anyone else.

"People have been interested in divvying it up," said Ikeler. "The problem is it costs so much to separate the utilities, and it ends up quashing the deal. If it was already subdivided out — especially the HVAC — we would have been able to drop some tenants in there right away."

He said there has been some interest in buying the land outright. But Rasansky said he has no interest in selling. Because, you know, he's getting a nice rent check from Walmart. Every month. No matter what.

Until 2032.

"Mitchell knows what he's got, and he values his real estate," Ikeler said. "And as long as he has a long-term lease, heck, I don't blame him. I just know the city wants to get it done, and we'd love to do that."

"Anything's better than nothing," said The Libertine's McDonald. Grocery store. Big-box liquor store. Bowling alley. A Jump Street. Which does seem like just the thing for your freshly scrubbed Lower Greenville — a giant bounce house.