This place is neutral ground. You can find a group of hungry Lonestar badges crammed in a booth next to some scum from Burien, but almost always mechanics from Boeing hang out here.
The decor is a vintage, gaudy pink and yellow vinyl upholstery, ripped and patched with duct tape. The dark wood laminate is rubbed to the core, at least where it’s not peeled and broken.
But its signature are the hundreds of model aircraft and dozens of museum type artifacts from local aviation history. Sure they are dusty and some are broken, but when you walk in, you know this place is special.
In classic diner style, Randy’s has one large room with a long L-shaped counter facing the service area and kitchen. The dining area is roughly L-shape as well. It is filled with booths, from 2-tops to horseshoe shaped, semi private eight person pods. There are a couple larger tables more or less private in the back. Along the street facing storefront, six or so four-person booths provide the primo seating. The short leg of the L has one long bench, odd shaped tables with two chairs on the aisle. Old people seem to favor these seats.
It’s slightly musty, slightly smells of decades of grease and oil. It’s always too hot, at least, for some people. Some people find it cold all the time. It literally changes in each different booth or even seat. It’s noisy, but it’s not hvac, the air barely moves. It’s mostly the staff slinging bus tubs or crashing service carts around. There is generally a steady stream of shouts between the servers and the cooks. Every surface has just a hint of a greasy feeling.
The staff are universally jaded and grouchy. Graveyard shift is either Linda, an ageless woman who has clearly lived a hard life. Or there’s Kiddo, a fast talking gender fluid, for lack of a better term, nerd. They always seem on the verge of quitting.
The owners and day staff have less personality and far less charm to temper their acerbic attitude.
I love this place. You should visit.