{"id":464347,"date":"2025-12-22T12:38:22","date_gmt":"2025-12-22T12:38:22","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.europesays.com\/us\/464347\/"},"modified":"2025-12-22T12:38:22","modified_gmt":"2025-12-22T12:38:22","slug":"fans-line-up-for-hours-at-closing-restaurants-where-have-they-been","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.europesays.com\/us\/464347\/","title":{"rendered":"Fans line up for hours at closing restaurants. Where have they been?"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

Angelenos aren\u2019t strangers to waiting in hours-long lines for food. Most days of the week, you can count on a parade of customers patiently waiting for crusty, fermented rings from Courage Bagels<\/a>. In Chinatown and Pasadena, diners still line up for Nashville-style hot chicken from Howlin\u2019 Ray\u2019s, which opened its first location in 2016. In Historic South-Central, trails of people queue outside of Mercado La Paloma hours before it opens each day, hoping to try Yucatecan-style mariscos from Holbox, the chart-topping counter stall from Gilberto Cetina. <\/p>\n

\u201cWhen it\u2019s really good, there\u2019s no time limit,\u201d said Brenton Graham, a FedEx driver who waited in line at Howlin\u2019 Ray\u2019s in Chinatown\u2019s Far East Plaza during a recent lunch break.<\/p>\n

But as local restaurants face mounting challenges and struggle to remain open, this year saw hordes of diners lining up for a final taste at some of the city\u2019s most beloved spots \u2014 after they announce an imminent closure.<\/p>\n

Call it a case of dining FOMO, with an ironic twist. <\/p>\n

\"Lines <\/p>\n

Lines are the norm at Courage Bagels in Silver Lake.<\/p>\n

(Shelby Moore \/ For The Times)<\/p>\n

In August, Tokyo Fried Chicken<\/a>, a fast-casual diner ranked on the 101 Best Restaurants in L.A.<\/a> guide for three years running, shuttered downtown. Some customers reported waiting in line for an hour before ordering, only to wait another hour for their food to come to the table. <\/p>\n

July saw crowds wrapped around the corner of 6th and Main streets after Cole\u2019s French Dip \u2014 the city\u2019s oldest restaurant and saloon \u2014 announced its imminent closure<\/a>. A few months before that the Original Pantry Cafe, a century-old diner in downtown L.A., drew similar lines<\/a> when the restaurant abruptly shuttered<\/a>.<\/p>\n

I queued up at Papa Cristo\u2019s before the 77-year-old Greek restaurant and market closed its doors forever this spring. The line stretched down Pico Boulevard, a mix of loyal neighborhood locals, families and foodies from all over the city hoping to order one final lamb skewer or sizzling saganaki<\/a>.<\/p>\n

I had only learned about the landmark restaurant through Times coverage of its imminent closure. Shivering in the cool weather, I reassured my sibling and two friends, whom I had persuaded to join me for a first and final visit on Papa Cristo\u2019s last day of service, \u201cI know the line is long, but it will be worth it. I promise.\u201d<\/p>\n

My meal \u2014 lamb chops that rivaled my grandmother\u2019s paired with lemony, pillowy potatoes \u2014 was, indeed, worth the wait. <\/p>\n

But the experience made me wonder why so many diners wait until the bitter end before visiting a restaurant they\u2019ve been meaning to dine at for months or even years? <\/p>\n

It\u2019s human nature, said Allie Lieberman, an assistant professor of marketing and behavioral decision-making at the UCLA Anderson School of Management, who explained that \u201cscarcity creates a sense of urgency.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cPeople are really afraid to miss out,\u201d she said. \u201cYou know, \u2018If I don\u2019t go right now, I might lose this chance forever.\u2019 It drives people to want to do this experience and to go to longer lengths to do it, in this case, wait in a really long line.\u201d<\/p>\n

Some \u2014 like me, trying Papa Cristo\u2019s for the first time on its last day of service \u2014 are driven by \u201cregret avoidance,\u201d said Lieberman, or in other words, the motivation to act so as to not feel regret later.<\/p>\n

1 <\/p>\n

\"1.) <\/p>\n

2 <\/p>\n

\"2.) <\/p>\n

3 <\/p>\n

\"A <\/p>\n

1.<\/strong> 1.) Tokyo chicken sandwich from Tokyo Fried Chicken. (Mariah Tauger \/ Los Angeles Times) 2.<\/strong> 2.) Customers line up outside in the rain for a table at The Original Pantry Cafe in downtown L.A. (Nick Argro \/ For The Times) 3.<\/strong> A long line of customers waits during lunch time for Howlin Ray\u2019s signature Nashville-style hot chicken in Chinatown. (Ricardo DeAratanha \/ Los Angeles Times) <\/p>\n

On the other hand, regulars will revisit a favorite restaurant before it closes for a bite of nostalgia<\/a>, Lieberman said. \u201cYou\u2019re almost tying a bow on your experiences at that restaurant and you want to wrap it up one more time.\u201d<\/p>\n

Others may discover the restaurant because of the high visibility of the line itself. They may join the line in a concept known as \u201csocial proof,\u201d said Lieberman, much in the same way that if you see a group of people staring up at the sky, you\u2019re likely to stop and look up too.<\/p>\n

Then there are those who are driven to capture the scene for social media, as Philadelphia magazine restaurant critic Jason Sheehan noted<\/a> when local ramen shop ESO closed in August: \u201cBehind me, small groups talked about the place like they were checking off a box on a bucket list. … They\u2019d heard about the place. Seen it on Instagram. They\u2019d come all the way from New York just to try it and couldn\u2019t wait to post the photos,\u201d Sheehan wrote.<\/p>\n

There\u2019s a term for this too \u2014 \u201c\u2018signaling\u2019 to somebody else or to yourself that you are in the know, you are trendy, you are cool,\u201d said Lieberman. \u201cI know about this restaurant, I know that it\u2019s closing, and I\u2019m signaling to other people and to myself that I\u2019m the type of person that participates in these cultural events.\u201d<\/p>\n

A line as a cultural event? It makes sense. Unlike a sneaker drop or even a final clearance sale, food is sustenance. Food is also emotional, representing the social and cultural memory of a group of people. Seen in this way, standing in line for food becomes a way to imbue oneself in L.A. culture. Waiting in line becomes a ritual.<\/p>\n

For those on the other side of the counter, though, the experience of a huge surge of customers at the end of a restaurant\u2019s tenure comes with mixed emotions.<\/p>\n

\u201cPart of me is really happy to see it,\u201d said Elaine Yamanashi, co-founder of Tokyo Fried Chicken. In the week leading up to the closure, hundreds of loyal fans waited for space in the 32-seat dining room. \u201cIt validated, like, at least we know that people loved it.\u201d<\/p>\n

On the other hand, she said, \u201cWhere were these people three months ago?\u201d<\/p>\n

\"Diners <\/p>\n

Diners lined up for a final taste of All Day Baby\u2019s diner-inspired plates when it announced its permanent closure at the end of 2024.<\/p>\n

(Bill Addison \/ Los Angeles Times)<\/p>\n

Cedd Moses, owner of Cole\u2019s, said that the long lines the restaurant experienced after announcing its upcoming closure were \u201coverwhelming in the best way possible.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWe love that the city has shown up to support us,\u201d he said. \u201cWe appreciate people waiting in line.\u201d<\/p>\n

The crowds in the initial days after Cole\u2019s closure announcement prompted Moses\u2019 team to delay their closing by 45 days<\/a>, and then again until Nov. 1<\/a>, and then again until Dec. 31<\/a>. (\u201cI\u2019ve never been in a situationship with a restaurant before,\u201d reads one comment on the restaurant\u2019s latest extension announcement<\/a>.)<\/p>\n

Though Moses conceded that the surge of customers would not sustain the business in the long-term, he expressed hope that the renewed interest might attract a buyer committed to preserving the restaurant\u2019s legacy. <\/p>\n

The other legacy restaurant that drew lines after it announced its closure, the Original Pantry Cafe recently announced its reopening<\/a> under new ownership, with Kurt Petersen, co-president of Unite Here Local 11, crediting workers for staging protests and fundraisers that drew public attention. <\/p>\n

A neighborhood institution that has served the Crenshaw District for decades, Dulan\u2019s on Crenshaw experienced a similar wave of support in August after Dulan posted a fundraiser on social media<\/a> to help him pay back a ballooning hard-cash loan<\/a> before the Sept. 6 deadline. The community showed up in droves, and though Dulan was ultimately not able to meet the deadline, negotiations are ongoing. <\/p>\n

He said after the news broke the dining room was double its normal capacity.<\/p>\n

\u201cQuite frankly, [social media] is the most affordable way for a restaurant to advertise,\u201d said Dulan during a recent dinner rush, where he was personally encouraging diners to post about their meal. <\/p>\n

For Alice Koskas, who was eating at Dulan\u2019s for the first time with a group of friends, the news of the restaurant\u2019s financial troubles hit close to home.<\/p>\n

Until recently, Koskas worked as the operations and events manager at FIN Asian Tapas, which permanently closed its doors in Culver City on Father\u2019s Day. Like so many others, after the restaurant announced its imminent closure, Koskas said it was suddenly \u201cslammed.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSo when we heard about this place, I know how it is, so it was like, \u2018Let\u2019s go and support them before they have to shut down,\u2019\u201d she said.<\/p>\n

Dulan said that once the decision to close has been made, a long line of support typically won\u2019t shift the tides.<\/p>\n

\"A <\/p>\n

A view from the interior of Cole\u2019s French Dip, with locals lined up outside of the landmark restaurant waiting for an hour or more to get seated for the last time.<\/p>\n

(Gina Ferazzi \/ Los Angeles Times)<\/p>\n

\u201cSometimes people are shocked to hear that a long-standing business is facing challenges,\u201d he said. But consistently patronizing them is important because \u201clocal restaurants are often the heart and soul of a neighborhood.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSo if you lose it, the neighborhood is losing a little bit of its identity,\u201d he said, \u201cand if the restaurant is popular, the neighborhood is losing something that draws people from outside into the neighborhood, like in my case.\u201d<\/p>\n

After a restaurant closes, it\u2019s the locals who miss out the most, Koskas\u2019 friend Lori Cote pointed out. Before FIN closed, Cote would encourage her neighbors to have dinner there.<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd now people are like, \u2018I wonder what\u2019s going to end up there because there\u2019s no good places to eat?\u2019\u201d Cote said.<\/p>\n

Restaurant owners say they are always grateful for support \u2014 they just need it sooner and more consistently. <\/p>\n

\u201cA lot of people have been posting \u2018if you love a restaurant, support it now,\u2019 and it\u2019s true,\u201d Yamanashi said. \u201cThere\u2019s a lot of restaurants that are silently suffering.\u201d<\/p>\n