There are two things you can count on in Lubbock: the wind…and the lies we tell ourselves about it.
It typically starts pretty early. You step outside and are immediately greeted with a gust strong enough to humble you, and somehow, you still think to yourself, “It’s not that bad today.” Deep down, you know that’s a dang lie. Your hair knows. Your car door definitely knows. But you commit to the lie anyway and go about your business.
By mid-morning, you begin negotiations. “It’ll probably die down later.” It won’t, though. It never does. If anything, it’s just getting warmed up. That was a light breeze you felt at 8 am. Now, it’s become a full-blown personality trait by noon.
Then, of course, comes the outfit of confidence. “I can still wear this.” No, you can’t. You can’t wear that hat. Not that flowy anything. Not even your dignity, honestly. The win here is devoid of respect for style. Zero.
Driving? That’s a whole different level of delusion. “I’ll just take it really slow. I think I can still see in front of me.” Meanwhile, you’re gripping the steering wheel like you’re flying a plane over the ocean.
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And somehow, no matter the evidence, we still make plans. “The patio will be nice.” No, the patio will not be nice. The patio will be a test of endurance, and it won’t pass.
But the biggest lie of them all? The one we agree on, every single stupid time:
“It’s just a windy day.”
No. This is Lubbock, Texas. Every day is a windy day. We just rate how aggressive it feels, and then we’ll see again tomorrow when we step outside, get slapped by the same gust, and lie to ourselves all over again.
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