Have you ever stood in a line that snakes around the block just for a simple cone of fries, wondering why you're not grabbing something quicker? It's a phenomenon sweeping the globe, turning everyday eats into must-do experiences – and it's more about our psychology than the food itself.
Why People Can't Resist Lining Up for TikTok-Famous Bites
Posted 19 minutes ago
Apeksha Bhateja
FabelFriet
Specialists break down how the dread of missing out, the pull of crowd validation, and our love for showing off are transforming basic munchies into worldwide queue magnets.
From his cozy apartment overlooking Amsterdam's historic Keizersgracht canal, lined with those grand 17th-century homes, Thomas A. P. van Leeuwen witnesses a very 21st-century spectacle. Every single day, visitors bunch up on the nearby bridge, snapping photos of their €5.50 (£4.80) portions of fries framed against the picturesque rooftops, all destined for TikTok or Instagram feeds.
If you're hunting for the best fries in Amsterdam, head straight to FabelFriet (https://fabelfriet.nl/?lang=en). This spot launched its debut store back in 2020 and skyrocketed to fame on TikTok in 2023. Since then, its flagship in the charming De Negen Straatjes (The Nine Streets) area has been swarmed with eager crowds non-stop. Helpful signs and team members guide the fry fans along the bridge and sidewalk to keep things orderly. Just a stone's throw away, the Korean sandwich joint Chun (https://chun-amsterdam.com/) sees identical backups, and the beautifully wrapped cookies from Van Stapele Koekmakerij (https://vanstapele.com/) have turned into yet another iconic stop for social media-savvy sightseers in the city.
But Amsterdam isn't alone in this food frenzy. Over in New York's vibrant West Village, folks endure waits of up to an hour at L'Industrie (https://www.lindustriebk.com/) for a single slice of pizza – think of it as a test of true dedication to that perfect crust. In London, snagging a classic salt beef bagel from the legendary Beigel Bake (https://www.beigelbake.co.uk/?) demands real commitment and a whole lot of patience, much like proving your street-food stripes. Across the ocean in Japan, the I'm Donut? obsession has spread far and wide, with its New York branch (https://www.imdonut.nyc/) pulling in steady streams of donut devotees. And don't forget Italy's All'Antico Vinaio (https://www.destinationflorence.com/en/blog/357-allantico-vinaio-the-panino-that-achieved-world-wide-fame), which has taken its renowned schiacciata (that's a delicious Tuscan flatbread) sandwiches to the UK and US, where fans queue up for the fresh-baked goodness, sometimes debating if the hype matches the taste.
All around the planet, vacationers are now ready to invest an hour or longer in trendy twists on familiar comfort foods. Heck, even Saturday Night Live poked fun at it with a hilarious skit (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y4bEOzw8CeY). Yet, according to mind experts, these endless lines have little to do with hunger pangs; they're a window into how digital platforms, social standing, and the urge to perform are revolutionizing the way we journey.
The Allure of the Line: What Draws Us In
A long queue isn't merely a sign of buzz – it sets off deep-seated mental triggers that are hard to ignore. For folks new to psychology, FOMO, or the fear of missing out, is like that nagging worry that everyone else is having an amazing time without you, pushing you to join in. Rachel S. Herz, an adjunct assistant professor in psychiatry and human behavior at Brown University's Alpert Medical School and the writer of Why You Eat What You Eat (https://wwnorton.com/books/why-you-eat-what-you-eat/), points out that this is the top reason people line up for dishes they've merely heard whispers about. 'When it comes to enjoyable activities, spotting others waiting in line amps up the appeal of whatever's on offer and sparks that FOMO itch,' she notes. Imagine scrolling through friends' posts of mouthwatering treats – suddenly, skipping it feels like missing a once-in-a-lifetime thrill.
Alamy
Cathrine Jansson-Boyd, a professor of consumer psychology at Anglia Ruskin University, dives deeper into what's called 'social proof,' which is basically our brain's shortcut to trusting that if a bunch of people are doing something, it must be worthwhile. For beginners, think of it as crowd wisdom: seeing the same line repeatedly normalizes the wait, making it seem like the standard way to enjoy a destination. 'It plants a seed of anxiety about being left behind,' she adds, explaining how this repetition quietly shifts our choices without us even realizing it.
And here's where it gets controversial: in today's hyper-connected world, these queues aren't chance encounters anymore. Most of us stumble upon these hotspots through curated social media scrolls long before setting foot in the city, rather than spotting them organically while exploring. Jansson-Boyd highlights how this ramps up the urge to mimic others. 'We're inherently social creatures, craving visibility for our adventures and eager to chase the trends we see everyone else loving,' she says. But does this mean we're losing the joy of spontaneous discovery? It's a point that divides travelers – some love the shared excitement, while others mourn the scripted trips.
Yet FOMO by itself doesn't cover why so many now document their entire wait, turning the line into the star of the show instead of the snack. And this is the part most people miss: the science behind these waits is increasingly tangled with a fresh trend that's impossible to overlook – treating our trips like a live broadcast.
Journeys as a Spotlight Moment
Love it or loathe it, queuing for buzzworthy bites is woven into a larger act of self-presentation. It's not enough to savor the viral treat; travelers capture every bite on video, and those shares broadcast to the world that they're in on the action. From the cronuts that kicked off the craze years ago to today's croffles (those hybrid croissant-waffle wonders), these hits explode on TikTok and Instagram well before tourists touch down, drawing millions who vicariously live through on-camera tastings.
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'Social media turns vacations into a personal theater where people showcase their stories,' shares Sara Dolnicar, a professor at the University of Queensland's Business School. Just hop on TikTok and search #stroopwafel or #friet (that's Dutch for fries), and you'll find endless clips of visitors dishing out reviews on these hot items, all while artfully recording their queue time or posing by the entrance. For example, one popular video might show a family rating Amsterdam's stroopwafels on a scale of 1 to 10, blending humor with that enviable travel vibe.
At FA Stroop Stroopwafels (https://www.instagram.com/firmastroop/?hl=en) in Amsterdam, owner Barbora Labudová deals with this showmanship up close. Tourists flock for the signature crunchy waffles sandwiched with gooey caramel and fancy toppings like fresh strawberries or crushed pistachios, but she often has to politely ask phone-obsessed customers to stop filming her mid-prep – a reminder that the performance can blur into real-life intrusions.
Cranking up the heat on an already popular spot rarely pays off in the long run – Sara Dolnicar
Influencers and stars supercharge this loop, according to Stefan Gössling, a professor at Linnaeus University's School of Business and Economics. They're always hunting for that next big thing to boost their online clout, and their fans copy the moves to feel connected to the elite circle. 'This imitation drive is the core of why we see these echo-chamber travel habits, from flocking to identical bakeries and donut joints to burger havens,' he explains. Picture a celeb post about a hidden gem – within days, it's swamped, proving how one endorsement can redirect hordes.
Since so much of this showcasing unfolds digitally, destinations aren't unearthed by aimless strolls anymore; they're spoon-fed by smart algorithms. This not only tweaks our on-the-ground actions but fundamentally alters our itineraries from the start.
The Myth of the 'Hidden Find'
Travel content on TikTok (https://www.tiktok.com/discover/travel?lang=en) fosters this illusion that we're all unearthing the same 'secret' spots at the exact same moment – but really, it's the platform's suggestions pulling the strings. Dolnicar points out that relying on online recommendations lightens the mental effort of planning. 'So, perhaps enduring a queue feels simpler than the work of seeking out those true off-the-grid treasures,' she suggests. For newcomers to travel planning, algorithms act like a helpful but biased tour guide, prioritizing ease over adventure.
More like this:
•Is it time to change how we buy travel souvenirs? (https://www.bbc.com/travel/article/20250217-is-it-time-to-change-how-we-buy-travel-souvenirs)
•Can Europe beat the overtourism crisis? (https://www.bbc.com/travel/article/20250613-can-europe-beat-the-overtourism-crisis)
•The controversial sweet that fuels Norwegians (https://www.bbc.com/travel/article/20250909-kvikk-lunsj-the-controversial-sweet-that-fuels-norwegians)
But there's a downside, and it's a big one. These systems favor the already-trending over the unique or lesser-known, bombarding millions with the identical recommendations all at once. Plus, platforms thrive on posts that stir feelings and rack up interactions (https://www.mdpi.com/2076-3387/15/6/202), spreading the hype even further. Virality, though, is a wild card – tough to forecast or manage – and while it sparks business booms, it also overwhelms local setups (https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S2213078021000943#sec5). What begins as a fun online fad can swiftly overhaul whole communities.
Take Rome's gelato stands or Amsterdam's fry shacks: when everyone piles in at once, residents grapple with trash buildup, racket, and chaotic scenes. 'Boosting a tourist draw to scorching levels seldom delivers real wins,' Dolnicar warns. 'Instead, it risks sparking serious pushback from locals whose daily lives get upended.'
Apeksha Bhateja
This relentless tourist tide has pushed Van Leeuwen into action against the fry frenzy. Teaming up with fellow De Negen Straatjes locals, he's calling for the city to reassess FabelFriet's operating permit (https://nltimes.nl/2025/05/23/amsterdam-residents-sue-city-tiktok-driven-crowds-popular-snack-bar). Broader debates rage in Amsterdam over overtourism – groups like Amsterdam heeft een Keuze ('Amsterdam has a chance') have sued the council (https://www.dutchnews.nl/2025/05/amsterdam-residents-take-council-to-court-over-tourist-numbers/) for not capping visitors at 20 million a year as pledged.
Still, the masses keep coming undeterred. Spotting a line 'builds assurance that you're on the winning path,' says Gössling. Even aware that the buzz is manufactured, people hop in anyway – showing that for countless adventurers, the anticipation rivals the actual indulgence.
But let's stir the pot a bit: is queuing for viral food a harmless thrill that boosts local economies, or does it erode authentic travel by herding us like sheep? And what about the locals bearing the brunt – should cities clamp down harder, or is overtourism just the price of global connectivity? Share your thoughts in the comments: Have you braved a crazy line for hype food, and was it worth it? Or do you prefer forging your own path? I'd love to hear if you agree or disagree – let's chat!
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