Time of Soak: 9:15 a.m. on a Thursday morning. Eager beaver tourists form a line. I don't wait in lines very well, ever, less so when I'm ookie and caffeine deprived.
Level of Hangover: One or two glasses of happy hour sangria morphed into gin martinis in a tee pee with a backyard fire pit by 10:00 pm. Sugary wine punch before gin? Dear god, I'm supposed to be a pro. My mouth tastes like rotten fruit and burning.
The Soak: Overindulging is as overindulging does, so I decide to let it ride and order the omelet special of the day, dungeness crab with tomatoes, green onions, jack cheese, avocados and salsa fresca ($18.95*). The restaurant is dark when the sun's on the east side of the building, and the blue of the view glows with the possibility of me beating this alcoholic rap and getting out there and enjoying some physical activity other than retching. In this sweet and cramped lunch counter/cafeteria style space, I can smell the fish all around--strangely appetizing, go figure. My omelet is killer, eggs still plenty soft, loaded with crab and avocado, and a real visual pick me up. Goddamn it, some tortilla chips would make it an ultimate soak.
*Not indicative of the prices here---crab costs. Breakfast here is reasonable, with a classic breakfast running $8.
Hair of the Dog: Grapefruit juice and coffee, I'm trying to kill the sugar rot in my mouth with fat, salt and acid. It's working. Slowly...
Success of the Soak: Seattle should be given credit for offering a TON of really good food options in what would be a tourist trap gulch in most other cities. It's good to act like a tourist in your own city sometimes, and despite dreading the visitors, I only waited in line five minutes. I got an expertly cooked omelet lickity split (a Seattle rarity on both counts), and I ate it staring at a fucking amazing view with plenty of strong coffee. Gooooooaaal.