Lubbock is currently vibrating with the kind of frantic energy usually reserved for a light dusting of snow or a mid-tier bowl game. “The King” George Strait is descending upon Jones AT&T Stadium this weekend, and the city has released a “guide” that is essentially a polite way of saying, “May the odds be ever in your favor, because the traffic is going to be a biblical disaster.”
If you’re one of the lucky souls who hasn’t already sold their tickets to pay their utility bill, you’re encouraged to buy your merchandise on Wednesday or Thursday. That’s right—you can hike down to a “green space” (Lubbock translation: a patch of dirt with three surviving blades of grass) two full days early just to pay $50 for a screen-printed t-shirt. It’s the perfect way to experience the stadium’s atmosphere without the pesky distraction of actual music.
The logistics are a classic Texas Tech fever dream. The parking lots open at 2:30 p.m., but there’s a baseball game at 1 p.m., so expect the intersection of 4th and Indiana to look like a scene from Mad Max, just with more Lucchese boots. If you’re planning to Uber, they’re dropping you off at Memorial Circle, ensuring you get a lovely half-mile hike to the gate to really break in those blisters before the first chord of “Troubadour” even hits.
Once you reach the gates, don’t expect to bring anything that might provide comfort. The prohibited items list is longer than the line at Spanky’s on a Friday night. No umbrellas—because we all know West Texas weather is famously predictable—and no seat backs with “pockets or zippers.” Heaven forbid you try to smuggle in a spare napkin or a sense of hope. You’re also not allowed to bring your own “artificial noise makers,” which is ironic considering the stadium will be filled with 50,000 people screaming “Amarillo by Morning” off-key.
If you survive the security gauntlet, the city suggests hitting up local “nearby” spots like the Pancake House or Italian Garden. Because nothing prepares the human body for a four-hour stadium concert in the April heat quite like a heavy plate of lasagna or a stack of buttermilk flapjacks. It’s the Lubbock way: over-eat, over-walk, and over-pay for the privilege of seeing a man who will be back in his private jet before you even clear the parking lot.
Will the “Clear Bag Policy” finally be the thing that keeps the dust out of our lungs, or are we just paying $200 to see if Miranda Lambert can out-sing the sound of a Citibus engine?
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