Good Morning

It is Jeremy’s birthday!

We wake up, get ready, and head to Randy’s Restaurant—a classic diner absolutely brimming with aviation memorabilia. Model planes hang from the ceiling in nearly every available nook and cranny. Display cases hold war medals, tiny aircraft replicas, badges, patches, and relics that make you want to speak in respectful tones. The rest of the décor leans heavily into late ’60s and early ’70s pop culture, which somehow pairs beautifully with the suspended aircraft overhead.

Jeremy orders an omelet called “Planes” and a coffee. I opt for a breakfast combo: scrambled eggs, sausage, pancakes, and hash browns, with water to drink. Everything is delicious in that comforting, diner-at-9-a.m. way that feels both indulgent and correct.

After eating, we wander around the restaurant admiring the collection properly before heading out.

*Unfortunately, Randy's Restaurant was forced to close in 2020.

Space Needle

We drive into Seattle—The Emerald City herself—and park in a garage directly across from the Space Needle. Convenient? Yes. Affordable? Let’s not dwell on it.

We walk over and purchase Day & Night tickets, which allow us to go up twice—once in daylight and once after dark. The gift shop consumes the entire main floor, so naturally we browse for a bit before joining our 12:30 loading group.

At the top: what a view.

We circle the observation deck slowly, taking in the Seattle skyline in all directions. The bay stretches out with its piers lined neatly along the water. We spot Capitol Hill, a sprawling park, a giant fountain below, and—most delightfully—massive painted spiders sprawled across the roof of the Armory.

Inside, Jeremy tries a VR setup that simulates bungee jumping off the Space Needle. He reports that it is not particularly convincing, which is good news for everyone involved.

Seattle Center

Back on solid ground, we explore the surrounding Seattle Center. Museums and green spaces unfold in every direction.

We wander toward a massive fountain set into a bowl-shaped plaza. Music—tribal, rhythmic, dramatic—booms through the air, and the water responds as if choreographed. When the music pauses, the water settles. When the beat drops, it surges. It’s mesmerizing. Later, I learn it’s called the International Fountain, which feels entirely appropriate.

From there, we make our way to the Museum of Pop Culture. The architecture looks like several metallic buildings melted and fused together mid-motion—chaotic and brilliant.

Then we find a park with a towering slide.

Being the mature adults we are, we decide we must go down it.

This is no ordinary playground. To reach the slide, one must climb a vertical tube of ropes, maneuver onto a platform, cross a rope bridge (already offensive to anyone who dislikes heights), and then—finally—descend.

Jeremy goes first. I film him climbing triumphantly up the rope tube like a birthday conqueror.

Then it’s my turn.

The tube is clearly designed for small, agile children. I am neither small nor particularly agile in confined rope cylinders. As I climb, I vividly imagine scenarios in which I get stuck, tangled, or tragically suspended mid-air. None of these mental images are helpful.

But I make it. With effort. With dignity… mostly.

The rope bridge is terrifying. I hate heights. A rope bridge is essentially an agreement between gravity and fear. I cross anyway. I go down the slide.

It is absolutely worth it.

Piers

We head downhill toward the waterfront and stop at Uptown Espresso. Jeremy orders a short espresso. I order a cappuccino. Jeremy ends up drinking both, which feels on-brand for him. I can always count on him to eat or drink items that don't suit my fancy.

We stroll along the water and witness a crane swallow a freshly caught fish whole. Our timing is impeccable - or imBeccable if you so please. Nature performs; we applaud silently.

Lola

We continue along the pier, through construction, and then up a steep hill to Lola’s for lunch. The climb feels mountainous. The reward is delectable.

Jeremy orders a lamb burger with chickpea fries. I choose a lamb kebab with crispy red potatoes and warm pita. We stick to water and sit in content silence for a moment, grateful and full.

Pike Place Market

We walk back down to Pike Place Market and immediately become confused. According to Maps, we are at the entrance. According to our eyes, we are not. We are at a public transport station.

Pro tip to future travelers: you must walk down the street until—like magic—the sidewalk transforms into market chaos.

Once inside, it’s lively and layered and wonderfully overwhelming. Fresh seafood. Farm produce. Handmade goods. Jeremy buys a metallic-print T-shirt featuring the original Starbucks.

Another pro tip: there is no logical navigation system at Pike Place. You will double back. You will question your path. You will embrace it.

We cross the street to explore more shops and, of course, end up inside a Starbucks. The barista tells us about a roastery up the street—on the same block as Jeremy’s birthday cake destination.

Clearly, fate.

Walk to Tango

The Starbucks Roastery is, without question, the coolest Starbucks we have ever entered. Industrial. Polished. Slightly dangerous to our wallets. We buy tiny espresso mugs and snag the very last bag of their whiskey brew.

Then we slip into Tango for birthday cake.

Jeremy orders tres leches. I quietly request a candle. The staff individually wish him happy birthday, and it’s unexpectedly sweet. He makes his wish, blows out the candle, and smiles in that soft way that makes the whole day worth it.

Space Needle at Night

It’s time to return to the Space Needle.

At night, the city glows. The skyline sparkles. The last threads of sunset fade into deep blue. It feels cinematic in a way that almost doesn’t seem real.

On our way down, we purchase a set of six highball glasses painted with Seattle scenes—because memories deserve proper vessels.

Good Afternoon, Good Evening, and Goodnight

We aren’t quite hungry for dinner yet in the city, so we head back to the hotel. Eventually, though, hunger wins.

We find ourselves at The Boiling Crawfish and order the number nine—a feast of crab, crawfish, shrimp, sausage, corn, potatoes, scallops, clams, and oysters. It is excessive. It is glorious. It is seafood abundance in its purest form.

By the end, we are profoundly stuffed.

We return to the hotel, turn on Will & Grace, and I fall asleep almost immediately—full, happy, and grateful for a birthday celebration that felt like an adventure from beginning to end.