Thanksgiving in Lubbock always starts with the best intentions. You wake up, throw on your comfiest “I’m totally not wearing real pants today” leggings, and convince yourself this year will be different.

This year, everyone will behave.

This year, the food will come out on time.

This year, the family dog will not eat anything off the counter, for the love of God.

And then… the signs start rolling in. One by one. Like little breadcrumbs leading you straight into the woods of chaos.

First, someone brings up Texas Tech football within ten minutes of walking through the door. Not even a casual mention, either. More like a heated postmortem analysis of every play from the last decade. You can practically hear the emotional support tortillas rustling in the wind. That’s when you know the temperature in the room has officially risen, and not because someone left the oven on.

Next, Aunt Linda corners a cousin in the kitchen and whispers something that ends with, “But don’t tell your mama I said that.” If your Thanksgiving has a soundtrack, this is the moment where the ominous music swells. Every Lubbock family has at least one relative who treats the holiday like a covert intelligence mission. The gossip is piping hot, seasoned, and absolutely not USDA-approved.

Then, the dog makes a move. In every Lubbock home, there’s that one family pet who becomes a food-seeking missile the moment the turkey exits the oven.

Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash

One second, it’s on the counter, golden brown and photogenic.

The next second, it’s on the floor, being dragged toward the hallway at Mach 3 while someone yells, “GET HIM! SOMEBODY GET HIM!”

Thanksgiving is, of course, a contact sport.

Meanwhile, a child under the age of eight is crying. No one knows why. The kid doesn’t know why. But they’re definitely sticky and holding something they shouldn’t be.

Now Grandpa is asking who touched the thermostat. No one admits to it, which means absolutely everyone did.

READ MORE: DON’T FORGET TO HIDE THESE ITEMS BEFORE YOUR GUESTS ARRIVE FOR TURKEY DAY IN LUBBOCK!

As the day unfolds, you’ll notice more warning signs. Someone opens the fourth bottle of wine at 1 p.m. Someone else starts rearranging the fridge shelves “because none of this makes sense.” A cousin disappears into the backyard and emerges smelling suspiciously like they’ve “taken a walk.” The smoke detector chirps, and everyone ignores it like it’s part of the ambience.

At this point, even the dog is stressed.

The biggest red flag of all? Someone says, “Let’s go around the table and say what we’re thankful for.” It’s never just sweet gratitude. No, this is where the confessions come out. The drama. The surprises. The deeply personal monologues that should’ve been saved for a group text, not spilt like gravy over stuffing, right there at the table for all to ponder awkwardly.

But here’s the beautiful thing: even as the wheels wobble, even as the fried onions get soggy on the casserole, even as one uncle storms out and another uncle storms back in with folding chairs he “borrowed from the neighbour,” it’s still Thanksgiving.

It’s messy, loud, unpredictable, and so deeply Lubbock it might as well come with windburn and a free Whataburger coupon.

Because no matter how off the rails it goes, you’ll do it all again next year.

And honestly? You wouldn’t have it any other way.

Happy Thanksgiving, Lubbock!

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