For years, the Mount Tam pancake breakfast was one of those quietly perfect Bay Area traditions — the kind of thing locals knew about, cherished, and never felt the need to broadcast to the entire internet. Volunteers flipping flapjacks on a mountaintop. Stunning views. Community vibes. Simple.

Then TikTok happened.

After the event went viral on the platform, massive crowds descended on Mount Tamalpais, forcing organizers to make significant changes to a tradition that had been humming along just fine without the attention of millions of algorithm-fed content consumers.

Look, we're not anti-social media. We're not going to shake our fists at the cloud (even though the clouds from Mount Tam are genuinely worth shaking your fist at in awe). But there's something deeply frustrating about watching a small, community-run event get overwhelmed because influencers needed content.

The real issue here isn't pancakes — it's the tragedy of the commons playing out in real time. When a resource is free or low-cost, open to the public, and suddenly amplified to an audience of millions, the system breaks. The volunteers who've run this breakfast for years didn't sign up to manage festival-sized crowds. The mountain's infrastructure wasn't built for it. The narrow roads leading up certainly weren't designed for bumper-to-bumper traffic at 7 AM on a weekend.

And who bears the cost? Not the TikTokers who got their 60-second clip and moved on to the next viral location. It's the local organizers, the taxpayers funding road maintenance and emergency services, and the community members who just wanted some pancakes and a sunrise.

This is what happens when you have a public good with no pricing mechanism and unlimited demand. Either you restrict access, raise prices, or watch the thing you love get loved to death.

Here's hoping the organizers find a solution that keeps the tradition alive — ideally one that doesn't require a ring light to enjoy.