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Jul 23, 2025
Ordering the Future at the Tesla Diner
Arena Magazine visits Tesla's Los Angeles supercharging diner.
The new Third Place is the Tesla supercharger.
Many car owners who pass on Teslas cite the hassle of charging. Compared to going to a gas station, supercharging on the go is certainly more time intensive.
But, with Tesla’s new diner in West Hollywood, California—simply called the “Tesla Diner”— entire families can come to charge their cars together at noon on a Tuesday, and enjoy a burger in a Cybertruck-themed box while they do. Charging a Tesla becomes far more enjoyable when a Tesla Driver employee rolls up on skates to deliver your food.
When I visited the Tesla Diner on July 22, the day after its grand opening, a hundred cars were jockeying for eighty super-charging spaces. The space, circular and made of steel and concrete, doubles as a drive-in movie theater, and is an attraction in itself. The Tesla Diner is a twenty-minute walk from the Hollywood Walk of Fame and the TCL Chinese Theater. It takes up a third of a city block in Hollywood and reminds Angelenos of the once-mighty Capitol Records building.
Maritza Yoes, the former global head of social media at Tesla, told me that the Tesla Diner was Elon’s answer to the question “how can we make supercharging fun?” She had worked on early iterations of the project back in 2017.
The Tesla Diner opened its doors, and its parking spaces, on July 21 at 4:20pm (in classic Elon style). I arrived at the Tesla Diner at 10 am the next morning, albeit not in a Tesla. I entered on foot and there was a short line outside the circular glass doors. (Patrons ordering in their Teslas get to skip the line.) I ordered a cold brew ($4.50) and some hash browns ($8), fried in beef tallow, with a side of maple mayo. While I waited, I sat at the counter and used a red crayon to fill out the kids’ menu: a Tesla-themed crossword puzzle and a maze. The back of the kids’ menu has an outline of the Tesla Diner for kids to fill in with colored crayons.
From my midcentury-style stool, I watched the Tesla Diner baristas make matcha lattes while circling “SUPERCHARGER” and “OPTIMUS” on the crossword. Like most Tesla factories, the diner, which is open 24/7, has a morning shift, an afternoon shift, and a night shift. By noon, a line (of people, not cars) had started to form outside the circular glass doors.
Mid-morning, while I ate my hash browns, a man sat down next to me and asked me why I was at the diner. I told him that I was covering the diner for Arena. When I returned the question, the man told me that he set up a DJ booth in his Cybertruck last night to bring together other Tesla enthusiasts. The man took out his iPhone to show me videos of about a hundred Tesla Diners dancing to his House music in the Tesla Diner parking lot from the night before. He planned to return that night.
At around noon, I ordered a burger. To eat my lunch, a burger, I walked up to the roof of the diner, taking a spiral staircase that played what I could only describe as futuristic spa music. On the roof, I saw many families, including a large number of small children. I also saw a number of adult men wearing the cybertruck burger boxes as hats, as well as teenagers on dates. The roof had a prime view of the two, theater-sized screens playing a mix of Star Trek, the eighties cartoon “Challenge of the GoBots,” and Cybertruck ads. My fellow patrons and I ate our burgers and watched Star Trek on the massive movie screens.
The burger itself was fine, though a bit charred for my taste. Clocking in at $13.50, it was nothing stellar for the price range. Neither was the cold brew, served in a paper cup with a red lighting bolt on the side. (However, the hash browns I had earlier in the day were excellent.)
However, I doubt most patrons were there for the food. The Tesla-themed restaurant is, so far, best known for the viral Optimus Robot popcorn station, where the standard pimply movie theater clerk is replaced by an ultrasleek robot. Responding to a viral video of the robot popcorn station, Elon Musk claimed that “This will become normal in a few years.”
In line for the Optimus popcorn, I saw a young boy tell his mom, holding his half-empty popcorn container, that the robot had room for improvement. His mom smiled, telling her son that she was sure that the technology would improve quickly. He nodded and gave the robot his popcorn box again. This time, the robot filled it up to the top.
The Tesla Diner ought to be a fun experience for little kids, who get to see a robot in action—and enjoy some junk food, while they’re at it.
No one goes to Disneyland for the food. And, excepting the tallow-fried hash browns, no one should go to the Tesla Diner for the food. Why go? To participate in the future.
It is not a heavy lift to participate in the future. One does not need to be a robotics engineer but only an eager patron to enjoy a restaurant that celebrates capitalism and a future that looks like the future. Elon Musk has explained that the Cybertruck has its iconic shape because, in part, it “looks like the future.” Of course, Cybertruck-themed hamburger boxes are a lot easier to manufacture than flying cars. But, an overlooked part of bringing about the future is just allowing our day-to-day lives to look more like the future. Just as Musk made the Cybertruck look futuristic using conventional technology, we can make our world seem futuristic just by embracing the limits of what already exists, like popcorn-serving robots. By going to the Tesla Diner, patrons use one of the most tried and true mechanisms to support the people who are trying to summon a good future into existence: good old-fashioned capitalist reward structures.
•
Jul 23, 2025
Ordering the Future at the Tesla Diner
Arena Magazine visits Tesla's Los Angeles supercharging diner.
The new Third Place is the Tesla supercharger.
Many car owners who pass on Teslas cite the hassle of charging. Compared to going to a gas station, supercharging on the go is certainly more time intensive.
But, with Tesla’s new diner in West Hollywood, California—simply called the “Tesla Diner”— entire families can come to charge their cars together at noon on a Tuesday, and enjoy a burger in a Cybertruck-themed box while they do. Charging a Tesla becomes far more enjoyable when a Tesla Driver employee rolls up on skates to deliver your food.
When I visited the Tesla Diner on July 22, the day after its grand opening, a hundred cars were jockeying for eighty super-charging spaces. The space, circular and made of steel and concrete, doubles as a drive-in movie theater, and is an attraction in itself. The Tesla Diner is a twenty-minute walk from the Hollywood Walk of Fame and the TCL Chinese Theater. It takes up a third of a city block in Hollywood and reminds Angelenos of the once-mighty Capitol Records building.
Maritza Yoes, the former global head of social media at Tesla, told me that the Tesla Diner was Elon’s answer to the question “how can we make supercharging fun?” She had worked on early iterations of the project back in 2017.
The Tesla Diner opened its doors, and its parking spaces, on July 21 at 4:20pm (in classic Elon style). I arrived at the Tesla Diner at 10 am the next morning, albeit not in a Tesla. I entered on foot and there was a short line outside the circular glass doors. (Patrons ordering in their Teslas get to skip the line.) I ordered a cold brew ($4.50) and some hash browns ($8), fried in beef tallow, with a side of maple mayo. While I waited, I sat at the counter and used a red crayon to fill out the kids’ menu: a Tesla-themed crossword puzzle and a maze. The back of the kids’ menu has an outline of the Tesla Diner for kids to fill in with colored crayons.
From my midcentury-style stool, I watched the Tesla Diner baristas make matcha lattes while circling “SUPERCHARGER” and “OPTIMUS” on the crossword. Like most Tesla factories, the diner, which is open 24/7, has a morning shift, an afternoon shift, and a night shift. By noon, a line (of people, not cars) had started to form outside the circular glass doors.
Mid-morning, while I ate my hash browns, a man sat down next to me and asked me why I was at the diner. I told him that I was covering the diner for Arena. When I returned the question, the man told me that he set up a DJ booth in his Cybertruck last night to bring together other Tesla enthusiasts. The man took out his iPhone to show me videos of about a hundred Tesla Diners dancing to his House music in the Tesla Diner parking lot from the night before. He planned to return that night.
At around noon, I ordered a burger. To eat my lunch, a burger, I walked up to the roof of the diner, taking a spiral staircase that played what I could only describe as futuristic spa music. On the roof, I saw many families, including a large number of small children. I also saw a number of adult men wearing the cybertruck burger boxes as hats, as well as teenagers on dates. The roof had a prime view of the two, theater-sized screens playing a mix of Star Trek, the eighties cartoon “Challenge of the GoBots,” and Cybertruck ads. My fellow patrons and I ate our burgers and watched Star Trek on the massive movie screens.
The burger itself was fine, though a bit charred for my taste. Clocking in at $13.50, it was nothing stellar for the price range. Neither was the cold brew, served in a paper cup with a red lighting bolt on the side. (However, the hash browns I had earlier in the day were excellent.)
However, I doubt most patrons were there for the food. The Tesla-themed restaurant is, so far, best known for the viral Optimus Robot popcorn station, where the standard pimply movie theater clerk is replaced by an ultrasleek robot. Responding to a viral video of the robot popcorn station, Elon Musk claimed that “This will become normal in a few years.”
In line for the Optimus popcorn, I saw a young boy tell his mom, holding his half-empty popcorn container, that the robot had room for improvement. His mom smiled, telling her son that she was sure that the technology would improve quickly. He nodded and gave the robot his popcorn box again. This time, the robot filled it up to the top.
The Tesla Diner ought to be a fun experience for little kids, who get to see a robot in action—and enjoy some junk food, while they’re at it.
No one goes to Disneyland for the food. And, excepting the tallow-fried hash browns, no one should go to the Tesla Diner for the food. Why go? To participate in the future.
It is not a heavy lift to participate in the future. One does not need to be a robotics engineer but only an eager patron to enjoy a restaurant that celebrates capitalism and a future that looks like the future. Elon Musk has explained that the Cybertruck has its iconic shape because, in part, it “looks like the future.” Of course, Cybertruck-themed hamburger boxes are a lot easier to manufacture than flying cars. But, an overlooked part of bringing about the future is just allowing our day-to-day lives to look more like the future. Just as Musk made the Cybertruck look futuristic using conventional technology, we can make our world seem futuristic just by embracing the limits of what already exists, like popcorn-serving robots. By going to the Tesla Diner, patrons use one of the most tried and true mechanisms to support the people who are trying to summon a good future into existence: good old-fashioned capitalist reward structures.
•
Jul 23, 2025
Ordering the Future at the Tesla Diner
Arena Magazine visits Tesla's Los Angeles supercharging diner.
The new Third Place is the Tesla supercharger.
Many car owners who pass on Teslas cite the hassle of charging. Compared to going to a gas station, supercharging on the go is certainly more time intensive.
But, with Tesla’s new diner in West Hollywood, California—simply called the “Tesla Diner”— entire families can come to charge their cars together at noon on a Tuesday, and enjoy a burger in a Cybertruck-themed box while they do. Charging a Tesla becomes far more enjoyable when a Tesla Driver employee rolls up on skates to deliver your food.
When I visited the Tesla Diner on July 22, the day after its grand opening, a hundred cars were jockeying for eighty super-charging spaces. The space, circular and made of steel and concrete, doubles as a drive-in movie theater, and is an attraction in itself. The Tesla Diner is a twenty-minute walk from the Hollywood Walk of Fame and the TCL Chinese Theater. It takes up a third of a city block in Hollywood and reminds Angelenos of the once-mighty Capitol Records building.
Maritza Yoes, the former global head of social media at Tesla, told me that the Tesla Diner was Elon’s answer to the question “how can we make supercharging fun?” She had worked on early iterations of the project back in 2017.
The Tesla Diner opened its doors, and its parking spaces, on July 21 at 4:20pm (in classic Elon style). I arrived at the Tesla Diner at 10 am the next morning, albeit not in a Tesla. I entered on foot and there was a short line outside the circular glass doors. (Patrons ordering in their Teslas get to skip the line.) I ordered a cold brew ($4.50) and some hash browns ($8), fried in beef tallow, with a side of maple mayo. While I waited, I sat at the counter and used a red crayon to fill out the kids’ menu: a Tesla-themed crossword puzzle and a maze. The back of the kids’ menu has an outline of the Tesla Diner for kids to fill in with colored crayons.
From my midcentury-style stool, I watched the Tesla Diner baristas make matcha lattes while circling “SUPERCHARGER” and “OPTIMUS” on the crossword. Like most Tesla factories, the diner, which is open 24/7, has a morning shift, an afternoon shift, and a night shift. By noon, a line (of people, not cars) had started to form outside the circular glass doors.
Mid-morning, while I ate my hash browns, a man sat down next to me and asked me why I was at the diner. I told him that I was covering the diner for Arena. When I returned the question, the man told me that he set up a DJ booth in his Cybertruck last night to bring together other Tesla enthusiasts. The man took out his iPhone to show me videos of about a hundred Tesla Diners dancing to his House music in the Tesla Diner parking lot from the night before. He planned to return that night.
At around noon, I ordered a burger. To eat my lunch, a burger, I walked up to the roof of the diner, taking a spiral staircase that played what I could only describe as futuristic spa music. On the roof, I saw many families, including a large number of small children. I also saw a number of adult men wearing the cybertruck burger boxes as hats, as well as teenagers on dates. The roof had a prime view of the two, theater-sized screens playing a mix of Star Trek, the eighties cartoon “Challenge of the GoBots,” and Cybertruck ads. My fellow patrons and I ate our burgers and watched Star Trek on the massive movie screens.
The burger itself was fine, though a bit charred for my taste. Clocking in at $13.50, it was nothing stellar for the price range. Neither was the cold brew, served in a paper cup with a red lighting bolt on the side. (However, the hash browns I had earlier in the day were excellent.)
However, I doubt most patrons were there for the food. The Tesla-themed restaurant is, so far, best known for the viral Optimus Robot popcorn station, where the standard pimply movie theater clerk is replaced by an ultrasleek robot. Responding to a viral video of the robot popcorn station, Elon Musk claimed that “This will become normal in a few years.”
In line for the Optimus popcorn, I saw a young boy tell his mom, holding his half-empty popcorn container, that the robot had room for improvement. His mom smiled, telling her son that she was sure that the technology would improve quickly. He nodded and gave the robot his popcorn box again. This time, the robot filled it up to the top.
The Tesla Diner ought to be a fun experience for little kids, who get to see a robot in action—and enjoy some junk food, while they’re at it.
No one goes to Disneyland for the food. And, excepting the tallow-fried hash browns, no one should go to the Tesla Diner for the food. Why go? To participate in the future.
It is not a heavy lift to participate in the future. One does not need to be a robotics engineer but only an eager patron to enjoy a restaurant that celebrates capitalism and a future that looks like the future. Elon Musk has explained that the Cybertruck has its iconic shape because, in part, it “looks like the future.” Of course, Cybertruck-themed hamburger boxes are a lot easier to manufacture than flying cars. But, an overlooked part of bringing about the future is just allowing our day-to-day lives to look more like the future. Just as Musk made the Cybertruck look futuristic using conventional technology, we can make our world seem futuristic just by embracing the limits of what already exists, like popcorn-serving robots. By going to the Tesla Diner, patrons use one of the most tried and true mechanisms to support the people who are trying to summon a good future into existence: good old-fashioned capitalist reward structures.
About the Author
Julia Steinberg is the former editor of the Stanford Review. She can be found on X at: @julialsteinberg.
