Just before lunchtime on the third day, the line outside Elon Musk’s newly opened Tesla Diner in Hollywood had swelled to nearly 100 people.

This eatery is described as a “retro-futuristic” drive-in, offering high-end burgers alongside classic films projected on a massive screen while you charge your Tesla.

After much anticipation and debate, the diner suddenly opened on Monday at 4:20 p.m., reminiscent of a humorous quip from a stoner. Hundreds of enthusiasts queued to sample burgers served in cybertruck-shaped boxes and to snap photos of the Optimus robot dishing out popcorn from a sparkling, circular rooftop deck.

However, just two days later, the Tesla Diner experience felt less like a futuristic marvel and more like a lesson in how things can go awry. Various aspects were lacking, and the food was merely average, yet fans continued to form lines and make purchases.

On Wednesday morning, the queue to enter was quite lengthy, partly due to technical difficulties. The app designed for Tesla drivers to order from their vehicles was malfunctioning, leading staff to prioritize Tesla owners who needed to order inside. This caused non-Tesla drivers in the walk-up line to potentially wait 2-3 hours for their meals.

We hoped to see some movement in the walk-up line, but only two families of Tesla owners returned to order from their cars. Even with the app’s issues, they would receive their food more quickly. This created a clear hierarchy: while everyone faced difficulties, Tesla owners were buffered from some of them.

For the rest of us, waiting in the hot sun didn’t exactly embody “retrofuturism.” It felt more like a mix of beautiful, Tesla-inspired, modern mid-century architecture combined with slow service. While a Star Trek episode played on a giant screen, the most entertaining sight was the parade of outfitted cybertrucks arriving and leaving. We counted at least six in neon orange with Texas plates riding on grand custom rims. I was documenting my observations on social media, but curiously, I didn’t see any anti-Musk protests planned for later in the week.

‘That’s Reality’

Musk’s special projects often emerge amid some confusion. Most recently, his efforts to disrupt significant portions of the U.S. government resulted in silence alongside the president he supported. He reportedly spent around $300 million on selective initiatives.

While Tesla fans are treated to premium burgers, managing an electric vehicle is considered much simpler than launching a space rocket, creating brain implants, or overseeing a social media platform devoid of hate speech or harassment. Chef Eric Greenspan, who partners with Musk in the diner, has noteworthy culinary credentials, advising businesses like Beast Burger and renowned establishments like Tartine Bakery.

Nevertheless, billionaire CEOs often make grand promises that frequently remain unfulfilled. This seemed to hold true even for the small burger joint.

You don’t need to own a Tesla to enjoy a meal here. Its allure clearly extends beyond Tesla drivers. On Wednesday, many individuals in the walk-up line arrived with young children eager to experience Tesla Diner after seeing it in videos online. While we waited, staff wearing branded shirts served us water and handed out paper menus.

Jake Hook, who operates a “diner theory” social media account focused on Los Angeles, described Tesla Diner’s menu as “eclectic.” It features options that mix “Libs Own the Libs” with “We Are Libs,” offering everything from a “magnificent bacon” dish boasting four types of bacon instead of fries to avocado toast and matcha lattes, even a kale salad served in cardboard cyber trucks. Welcome to Southern California.

Hook mentioned, “Diners serve as a reflection of the community, and that’s not quite what we’re seeing here. It feels more like a diner-themed restaurant.”

Staff provided an update to diners in the walk-up line, letting them know chicken, waffles, milkshakes, and “recharged soda” with boba and cherries were unavailable.

“It’s getting better and better,” a man behind me sighed.

Josh Bates and his son Phoenix were visiting from Orange County. “We’re major Musk fans,” he stated.

Phoenix, who is 10, was thrilled to visit the diner. “I’ve never seen Elon Musk open a restaurant, so I just wanted to see what the food was like,” he shared.

However, after waiting 20 minutes without moving closer to the counter, Bates chose to look for lunch elsewhere. “It’s an epic opening; things happen,” he remarked. “That’s just how it is. They’re doing their best.”

Bates wasn’t alone in this sentiment. Ivan Daza, 36, a Los Angeles resident, mentioned he had waited two hours the day prior, only to find the Tesla diner kitchen closed. He returned the next day with his 8-year-old daughter, who was particularly eager to see the Optimus robot after watching videos. Unfortunately, it turned out that Optimus was not operational.

Daza expressed surprise at the array of kitchen issues. He expected a “Plan B.” Still, he appreciated the “experience” the diner offered.

The prices, while steep, were reasonable for Los Angeles. A burger, for example, cost $13.50 without fries. He chuckled recounting how long it took him to get his meal: “It was tasty.”

The interior design resembled a blend of Disneyland and fine dining; sparkling chrome, futuristic white chairs, and stunning lighting created an inviting ambiance. A curved staircase leading to a SkyPad showcased robots in a display case, while the actual kitchen appeared surprisingly low-tech behind curved chrome windows.

I stood in line for an entire hour to place my order. Finally reaching the register, I asked the staff what was actually available. She directed me to the screen, stating I would need to check there for options. Contrary to earlier reports, I was indeed able to order both chicken and waffles.

After a prolonged wait outside, my food arrived in about 10 minutes—far shorter than the feared 3-hour wait, yet still unreasonably long for any fast-casual experience. The waffles were disappointingly cold, with a Tesla Lightning Bolt logo, and while the fried chicken had a delicious crust, it too was lukewarm. The kale and tomato salad lacked adequate dressing, tasting oddly of dill. The generic cola tasted cheap and was served with a bamboo straw. That said, the food did come in an elaborate cyber truck box, which was quite fun.

Locals seemed to brush off the initial glitches at the new diner, while some tourists were less forgiving. Rick Ying, 32, visiting Los Angeles from China with his mother, stopped by for a “quick lunch” before heading to the airport, only to find it wasn’t quick at all. Both Yi and Yang expected to see the Optimus robot in action and hoped for a more technologically advanced experience but described it as just a “regular restaurant.”

“It’s okay,” he said while waiting for his meal. Once he finished eating, he stated that he liked the cyber truck box, calling it “the only thing worth it.”

Musk’s “Retrofuturism”

I took my meal to the upper level, Skypad, an outdoor balcony with a view of the recharged Teslas. The Twilight Zone played on two massive screens as I sat near those purchasing Tesla Diner merchandise: a $95 retro diner hoodie, a $65 Tesla salt and pepper shaker, and a $175 “Levitering Cyber Truck” figurine.

A large popcorn machine stood nearby; it seemed like Optimus was serving snacks on opening night. Earlier that morning, I noted Musk’s social media post claiming, “Optimus will deliver food to your car next year,” hinting at the robot potentially donning a “cute” retro outfit.

However, Optimus was nowhere in sight. An employee later informed me, “He’s not here today. Maybe tomorrow.”

“Can I still get popcorn if there’s no robot?” a woman asked.

“It’s probably old popcorn,” the employee regrettably replied.

Another staff member cautioned that I couldn’t take the same staircase I had used to reach Skypad. I will say that it consisted of plain flights of stairs lacking any high-tech embellishments.

Despite the company’s recent revenue and profit declines revealed in Wednesday’s earnings call, Musk touted the diner as a success, calling it “a sparkling beacon of hope amid a gloomy urban landscape.” (It sits near Santa Monica Boulevard, flanked by upscale art galleries.)

While reflecting on the “retrofuturist” experience while standing in line, I contemplated how well it aligned with the conservative political project Musk promotes. This ordinary diner unfolds in a future where electric vehicle delivery expands alongside ongoing public health crises.

To thrive in today’s U.S. landscape, compartmentalization must be exceptionally effective. I lifted the cardboard cyber truck lid, showed my colleagues the Tesla waffles, and continued with my day. There might not be immediate improvements, but hey, at least it was an experience.