Description
A squadron of large model airplanes hangs from the rafters of Randy's, and the decor's a garish mishmash of orange and purple. Its food is solid, hits-the-spot diner fare. Boeing is just down the road, and the place is a longtime hangout for aviation types as well as traveling truckers and graveyard shifters, who gather to share their stories--both boring and rivetingly bizarre. A late night at Randy's is best described as a cross between the banality of a Hopper painting and the slashed-eyeball surrealism of a Buñuel film.
