If you’ve lived in Lubbock long enough, you’ve felt this heartbreak. The moment you pull into a parking lot, all excited for your favorite meal, only to discover the building looks like it’s been abandoned since the Bush administration. And just like that, you’re launched into the emotional rollercoaster that comes with losing a beloved local spot.
Restaurants here don’t just close. They totally vanish. And, they do it quietly, like culinary cryptids, when you least expect it.
It always begins the same way: a normal day, an innocent craving, and the optimism of someone who believes the universe wants them to be happy. But the second you spot more tumbleweeds than cars, you already know something terrible has happened. The restaurant is dark. The sign’s gone. A sad “Closed” paper is curled up on the door like it died trying to warn you.
The Stages of Lost Lubbock Restaurant Grief
Of course, denial kicks in fast. In Lubbock, we cling to the idea that maybe, just maybe, they’re remodeling. Perhaps they’re on vacation. Perhaps Gordon Ramsay is inside, throwing pans around and making the place look great. You tug on the locked door like you’re testing the gates of heaven. Nothing budges…