At the Tesla Diner, the Future Looks Mid

Why does the future so often disappoint us? When I read Tejal Rao’s review of the Tesla Diner, I kept thinking about how often the idea of something ends up being better than the thing itself. The article describes a place that is supposed to represent the future. Chrome and neon everywhere, burgers in little Cybertruck-shaped boxes, waffles stamped with lightning bolts. But when you’re actually there, it feels like any other diner, without the character you’d expect. All the excitement and hype fade away, and what’s left is just a regular spot that happens to have a few flashy decorations scattered around. I’ve felt that in my own life. Sometimes I make plans with friends that feel like little beacons of light in the weeks leading up. During stressful nights of studying or long days at school that seem to never end, I hold onto that anticipation of what is to come. I picture the activities, — maybe ice cream downtown, sun warming our backs, laughter echoing off the sidewalks — the perfect weather, the way we’ll all feel so glad to be together. But when the day actually comes, maybe the sky is overcast and the conversation feels forced.I’ve already lived it in my head so many times that the real thing feels muted, not as vibrant. Still good, but not the version I had meticulously planned out in my mind. The Tesla Diner feels like that on a bigger scale. It’s not just about burgers or menu items. It’s about the way we treat the future like it’s going to fix everything. We imagine it shinier and easier, like the ever-present imperfection will magically disappear with this new spectacle. But it never does. The future just becomes the present, with all the same flaws and disappointment. It’s the same feeling I get when I see Elon Musk’s Cybertruck or hear about his newest “world-changing” project. On paper, it’s all stainless steel and sharp edges, a symbol of innovation and tomorrow. In person, it’s bulky, awkward, and weirdly impractical — more of a statement piece than a functional machine for everyday use. Many even find it aesthetically displeasing –an eyesore in the streets. The same goes for his promises of self-driving cars, Mars colonies, or robots in every home. They sound thrilling and fun while still just ideas, but once they exist in the real world, you start noticing the flaws, the ways that reality diverges from fantasy. Maybe that’s the lesson. The future, no matter who’s selling it, is never as perfect as it seems. Whether it’s a truck shaped like a science-fiction fantasy or a truck-themed diner, the appeal fades once you’re close enough. And yet, we still keep chasing it. Maybe it’s not the arrival that matters, but the belief that something better lies ahead — the thing that keeps us moving, studying, and building, even when we know the real version will never live up to the one in our heads.