In the two weeks since the Tesla Diner in West Hollywood, California has opened, it’s seen no shortage of controversy. Complaints of long lines to both dine and charge, annoyed locals, falling fixtures causing injury and possible legal action, and protests against the company’s CEO—it’s truly steeped.
Living eight miles away as the crow flies, I decided to check it out myself. Get a good feel for the overall experience, provide some perspective to IEV’s readership, and reflect on its true impact on the Greater Los Angeles Metro Area.
And after two visits with an open mind, I can honestly say it's both a neat idea and a needed boost to EV charging in the LA area—and the coffee's not bad.
The First Attempt
“I’ll pop by before the dinner rush, it’ll probably be chill,” I told myself as I got through the Friday workday. A few days prior, my buddy and I passed by Tesla’s brand-new establishment on opening night on our way to Canter’s; a very long stretch of people standing in line, countless alleged moving violations by rideshare drivers contributing patrons to said line, cars lined up down the block anxiously awaiting electrons from one of 80 NACS-ready Superchargers, the works.
But that was opening night: Surely an off-peak hour after the initial wave would be more manageable?
I spoke too soon: When I rolled up to 7001 Santa Monica Blvd at around 4:00 p.m., it was yet again pretty packed.
The optics were congruous to what’s been reported: The one screen (playing an episode of The Office) indeed blocks out a lot of natural light for nearby residents, and it’s easy to see how the slightest bit of congestion getting into either lot can cause a lot of headache, as the area consists of fairly narrow side streets. Santa Monica Blvd, too, as it’s a narrow four-lane thoroughfare teeming with aggressive LA drivers.
The line for non-charging patrons stretched to just about the property line on North Orange Dr. to the east, though there were no more than one or two vehicles waiting to park in either lot. Busy, but not an absolute madhouse like a few nights prior.
I think the fact that people were roaming around the parking lot snapping photos and selfies made it seem more intense than it actually was. I watched dawdling families repeatedly block Tesla owners from backing into charging stalls. This caused bouts of congestion for freshly charged vehicles on their way out.
Then, even though there was a clear area designated to filter between charging patrons (who are able to order food from their vehicles) and non-charging patrons, people still wandered up to the front, befuddled, and seemingly unfamiliar with the common human practice of forming a line.
Occasionally, an employee addressed the crowd to let everyone know where to be and the ETA for food. But against the roar of LA commuter traffic, it was a lost cause.
I spoke to a man and his family who were in line right at the intersection of Santa Monica Blvd. and N Orange Dr.; they were told that it’d be at least a half-hour to order food, and even then, staff apparently had no idea of when customers would receive their meals. I asked if they'd stick it out.
They had nothing else planned for the evening, so they might as well see what it was all about. With a healthy headcount behind them and a prior engagement later in the evening, I cut my losses with plans to return at a later date.
The Second Attempt
The following Monday, I summoned the courage to stop by at 11:30 AM. This time, the non-charging line to get in was dramatically shorter, and the overall vibe appeared to be far more chill. There weren’t as many people wandering around, and a friendly employee came to my section of the line to explain ETAs; it would be 30-40 minutes to order food, another 20 to receive it.
This was more doable with my schedule, so I leaned against the metal retro-futuristic facade and enjoyed an episode of The Outer Limits playing on the screen (“The Galaxy Being” to be exact).
There was ample people-watching as I made my way forward. Fox News had a reporter on-scene awkwardly shuffling around, and a few influencers did YouTuber Hands to their selfie-stick’d mirrorless cameras. People of all walks of life and ages were entering and leaving the establishment, too. It made me wonder if everyday people really care about Elon’s controversies.
Hype is hype, a new thing is a new thing, especially if it’s widely covered in the media and located smack-dab in the middle of Los Angeles.
The original ETA of 30-40 minutes was a bit optimistic, as elapsed time clicked past 65 when I reached the front. Here, a friendly staff member gave me the spiel and advised me on some minor dos and don’ts for an optimal experience (Do: Eat some food. Don’t: Go upstairs before receiving said food).
When it was my turn to approach the tablet and put my order in—not before almost being cut off by a horde of overzealous tourists—I scrolled through the available fare.
The Dining Experience
While the diner was out of some options, there was still a decent amount of choice. A burger, tuna melt, fried chicken and waffles, fries, etc. But let’s get one important thing out of the way: I’m the last journalist that you want food recommendations from. Instead, I recommend scoping out Eater’s piece on the Tesla Diner’s food quality and presentation, if that’s what you’re after.
However, there is one area where I fancy myself a bit of a connoisseur: Diner coffee. Like its faithful companions, the French Dip and Monte Cristo, coffee is a good metric for judging the quality of any diner. I’m blessed to live near many good ones in Los Angeles—the area outlined by Astro Family, Paty’s, Canter’s, and Teddy’s is the Fifth Avenue of this fine American tradition. Therefore, I decided to only order a $4.33 small coffee, post-tax.
The time it took to receive my cup was a scant three minutes. I sat at the coffee bar, keeping a watchful eye, when one employee saw my squinting expression. “By chance, is there a small coffee ready?” I said in my overly polite Midwestern tone.
He looked at a random small cup and handed it to me. That same Midwesterner in me quickly became worried, as I may have jumped the line and screwed someone else out of their very long-awaited cup of bean water. But alas, the cup’s order number matched my text receipt, so all was well. I received a text notification that it was ready 10 minutes later—glad I didn’t wander off too far.
The coffee was quite good, by diner standards. Not watered-down, barely acidic, and had substantial flavor that lingered just long enough post-swig. The only roast that comes close is Canter’s or Swingers’. Though over four bucks for a small cup of coffee is a princely sum, and there’s no indication that free refills are a thing. (I probably should’ve asked, my bad.)
But then, this is LA: If refills aren’t free, strike up a conversation with the barista about your favorite Elia Kazan films and they’ll probably top you up, gratis.
Taking It In
It was quite apparent why the line moved so slowly: Whether by order of the fire marshal or just trying to make as best of a first impression as possible, staff were definitely cognizant of occupancy. It wasn’t jam-packed full of people, and I would’ve been able to bogart a booth pretty quickly if I wanted to.
The interior design… well, it’s somebody’s idea of a cool retrofuturistic aesthetic. There was no sign of Tesla’s Optimus serving popcorn, unfortunately, which I chalked up to ever-progressing California labor laws.
When I reached the end of the room, I ascended the stairs to the upper patio area.
The narrow, dimly lit, rounded-wall staircase had quite a curve to it, as if to conjure up images of Las Vegas’ underground Tesla tunnel system. Epic Tunnel, or something? Various Optimus generations were encased in glass along the way a la Han Solo in carbonite.
When I reached the upper deck, it made sense why so much of Tesla’s marketing materials were captured up there: It really was a nice, serene place to hang out. Shaded round tables face Santa Monica Blvd and look like they were plucked right off the set of Logan’s Run.
Facing the charging stalls and large screens were high-top tables and chairs. In the distance: The Hollywood Hills—we really do enjoy a hill-filled view in this town. It was surprisingly less populous up there, too, so once hype dies down, charging patrons will have every reason to let their battery levels exceed 80% and just savor it all.
I finished my cup, counted two times that a Tesla merchandise attendee complimented patrons on their SpaceX shirts, asking if they were employees—such sweet-talking has to be in the employee handbook—and hit the road. Before I could descend the stairs, an employee snapped that I had to take the elevator to the lower level.
This was puzzling at first, but I bet it was for safety reasons. There were more than a few rambunctious, unsupervised children running around. Tesla probably doesn’t want to cough up for one spending the rest of its life in a wheelchair because it raced up the narrow, winding stairs and got knocked down by some poor schmuck simply returning to their Model S.
Why We Need It
I’m glad I got to experience the Tesla Diner as a normal patron, even though it took two attempts (the things I do for The Readership) and over an hour of standing in line. The coffee wasn’t bad, either.
When it comes to Tesla building a retrofuturistic food establishment packed with its signature form of branding, people will either roll their eyes, shrug their shoulders, or treat it like their own Kaaba. Or simply go because there’s a line and hype surrounding it; I’m still amazed that people form the lines they do for Pink’s, just a hop and skip away on La Brea, and that’s been around for decades.
The Tesla Diner is whatever you make it out to be, and I’m not sure the quality of food even matters much. Especially once the hype eventually dies down and patrons will be happy to just hang out on a patio with a snack—watching sci-fi programming and cheesy Cybertruck commercials on two movie screens—while hooked up to one of the property’s Tesla Superchargers.
Tesla claims this is the largest fast-charging station in any urban area in the world. To offset the massive amount of spark flowing day-in, day-out, large solar panel canopies provide shade on the west end of the lot, which the company also claims will reduce the site’s carbon footprint by 26.6 million pounds of CO2 per year.
I point all this out because it’s about freaking time that somebody built something like this in the LA area.
In my experience, it’s more of a pain than it should be to charge in this part of the country if you don’t have a plug at home. Where I reside, you either have to wait at two small Electrify America stations crammed into shopping center lots in Glendale, or travel over to Burbank, where there’s a hearty bank of 10 with a generally smooth-moving line on the edge of a Walmart. There are others peppered around West, Central, and East LA offering Level 1 and Level 2, but there’s nowhere near enough DC fast charging
Zoning, permits, and other red tape are hard to deal with in Los Angeles County. But if Tesla can build this giant plot in the middle of a busy neighborhood—blocking out neighbors’ view of the sun, and all—surely, someone else can come along and create their own 20-or-more-stall concept. There are enough disused properties around—surely something like Electrify America’s SoMa station in San Francisco would be easy to mirror at a handful of locations.
Or, an automaker could team up with a charging service and attempt to one-up Tesla. Ionna diner, anyone?
Peter Nelson is a contributing writer for Motor1 and InsideEVs. His work has appeared on The Verge, The Drive, Winding Road, HotCars and more.
Gallery: Tesla Diner Visit
