In Lubbock, Christmas decorations aren’t just decorations; they’re like…a competitive sport or something. Some cities have Christmas spirit, but we have Christmas bragging rights. In certain neighborhoods, it’s like, you either go big, go wild, or spend December explaining to your neighbors why your house looks like you’re in the witness protection program.
The truth is, once that first cold front hits (or the dust storm that pretends to be one), something inside a West Texan snaps. Suddenly, we’re in the aisles of Walmart debating whether 15,000 twinkle lights are “too much” when we know, deep down, that limit does not exist. Electricity bills double. HOAs send strongly-worded letters…
And yet, when we plug it all in, and the house glows like a radioactive gingerbread man, the world is in order. Everything feels right. Kids are joyous. People are cheering in the streets. God smiles or whatever. It’s bliss.
But overdecorating in Lubbock comes with risks, and not just the risk of your uncle saying, “Looks like Clark Griswold threw up on your lawn.” No, I’m talking dry-ass grass from almost no rain all year long, which is HIGHLY flammable. We’ve all got that one extension cord that looks kind of iffy. That’s because it is. Throw it away now while you’re thinking about it. AND then, of course, the wind, which yeets Santa inflatables across the neighborhood. The combination of the two is a Christmas horror film in the making.
Still, we do it. We risk it for the biscuit. Year after year. We staple lights to shingles like overeager DIY surgeons. We hammer rebar into the ground so our inflatables don’t end up in Plainview. We pretend we read the wattage limits. We lie straight to our own faces.
Because at the end of the day, Lubbock is pretty dang ugly, and it’s nice to see it twinkle and shine at least once a year, even if it means risking the safety of the entire neighborhood (or city, for that matter)…