Blackouts are periods of intoxication during which the individual is unable to form or store new memories, though he or she appears to be awake and alert. It is not a good sign.
By Ron T
Mark came to at 30 miles an hour. This was just an estimate because his attention was in the rearview mirror. They seemed to be chasing him, these freakish-looking men. As his focus returned he could see carnival booths passing by. My God, he surmised, I am on the midway.
The Arkansas State Fair is not gigantic, but it is definitely not a drive-through affair. It quickly became obvious that this was not going to end well. Mixed in with the pursuing carnies were representatives of Arkansas’ finest. County, State, and local, they all seemed quite upset. His only hope was that the police would catch him before the carnival people beat him to death.
Mark worked at a popular seafood restaurant. Afflicted with late-stage alcoholism, he was unable to get through the shift without a drink or two. Tonight he had had slightly more. His last memory was that of leaving the restaurant.
His evening had been lucrative. Employing proven waiter tricks, he had managed to put together several hundred dollars. A particularly successful double-tip on a large party had inspired him to get some cocaine.
The only place to cop this late was in the hood. A dangerous place for a drunk white boy. Mark had been there at this hour before. He normally would not have gone alone, but he was on “a mission”, and would not be denied.
As the angry mob approached from the rear, Mark tried in vain to dodge the carnival booths ahead. Large teddy bears and other stuffed animals were flying everywhere as he slammed into booth after booth. Just when he was about to give himself up to the pursuing posse, there it was. Just ahead was the entrance to the State Fair, but alas, it was closed and locked with a chain and padlock.
Mark spent countless hours watching television. One of his favorites was The Rockford Files. He remembered an episode where Rockford was trapped down a dark alley and made his escape by accelerating his Camero and bursting through a chain link fence.
It’s quite odd what the mind can recall. Moments earlier Mark had been in a blackout with no memory of how or why he was in a high-speed police chase inside the Arkansas State Fair. Now he was able to recall, with great clarity, a scene from an old television show.
A Chevy Camero may be capable of penetrating a locked gate, but Mark was in a 10 year old Toyota. In the heat of the moment he overlooked this subtle difference. As he down shifted and accelerated, Mark thought only of the gate flying apart and a glorious escape.
The impact occurred at approximately 50 miles an hour according to the police report. The damage to the vehicle was total. The gate sustained $1,500 in damages. It was quite a sight. In a local paper, there was a large photograph of a Toyota impaled on an iron gate underneath a giant banner that read Arkansas State Fair.
Regaining consciousness for the second time in 15 minutes, Mark was now in handcuffs. This latest blackout was not alcohol induced. He had been knocked out by the impact. This probably saved his life.
The angry carnival workers wanted to kill him, but he appeared to be dead already so they left him alone. Head wounds bleed heavily so it looked worse than it was. Even so the police were taking no chances. They put the cuffs on tight and waited for the ambulance.
Totally perplexed by his present situation Mark had no understanding of why this had happened. The best he could come up with was that he had become lost in the back alleys of the hood, and had made a wrong turn into the fairgrounds.
Judging from the marks on his arm and the empty wallet now in police custody, Mark thought he must have completed his mission. He did not shoot up frequently, but when he was drunk he would sometimes indulge. He had no syringes this night, so he was very confused. Oh well; he had other things to worry about at the moment.
Mark spent the next few weeks in rehab. It was either that or jail. A few thousand dollars, a good attorney, and a little community service were enough to keep him out of prison. No one had been killed and the carnival soon left town. With all he had learned in rehab and the lesson he had learned from the incident Mark was sure he was well on his way to a new life.
Editor’s note: Mark died of a heart attack during heroin withdrawal in a rehab center eight years ago, many years after the county fair incident.
