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“Eric, I swear to God!”
He continues to run like he’s been training for the Olympics his entire life. The only excuse I can make fore Eric’s surprising stamina is that he’s secretly a professional athlete, or that he’s a machine in bed.
Just as I feel a burst of new energy that allows me to push past my exhaustion and potentially catch up with Eric, I lose him around corner where an excited crowd is gathered to ogle at a litter of piglets.
I attempt to wriggle my way through the crowd, but it seems to grow tighter the more I try to push through. I’m sure it was easy for Eric to get through, seeing how large he is, but nobody seems to want to make room for a small woman like me.
It takes me several minutes to get through the sea of people, but once I’m on the other side, I see no sign of Eric.
And that means I’ve lost my phone, so unless I can find my group of friends again, there’s no way I’m getting back home tonight.
I feel like screaming.
I just hate how humiliating this whole experience has been. The fair, my so-called friends, college – all of it has felt like a massive mistake. I should have just gone to a state school and met some people who were normal.
At least then they wouldn’t be so bored by wealth that they’d resort to cruelty for entertainment.
I take a long, deep breath and hold it until I start to feel dizzy. Then, I breathe out, and my body relaxes a bit. I don’t have to freak out about this. I can figure it out and get back on track for tonight.
I begin to make my way toward the center of the fair. That’s where we’ve spent the most time, and I’m sure that I’ll run into someone I know eventually.
I walk for a few minutes before I remember that everybody had wanted to ride The Drop before we left. I figure that, at the very least, Angelique, Tiffany, and McKenna will be there, and I can get a ride home with them. It’ll be awkward, but I have no choice.
For a fair as huge and highly anticipated as this one, there aren’t very many checkpoints or maps available. Why would there be? That would make too much sense, and it would help me navigate my way out of this mess.
But that isn’t part of the prank the universe has played on me, so it can’t be true. That would be too easy.
I try to remember where the ride could be relative to the food court, since we walked the circumference of the whole fair at least twice. I should’ve been making mental notes of where everything was, but I was too busy trying to keep up with the conversation everyone was attempting to exclude me from.
If I were still a teen getting picked on by the kids at my new school, I’d find a place to break down and cry for a few minutes in order to clear my head. However, any dignity that I have left after chasing Eric would evaporate if I were caught crying.
Time to suck it up and do what I need to do to get home safely.
I look around again, searching for some hint of where I am in relation to where I want to be. That’s when I notice a distinguished, stoic looking man standing near the porta-potties. He doesn’t appear to be going anywhere, but I figure he’s waiting for someone to come out.
It feels like a hail Mary, but maybe this guy works for the fair and could help guide me out. Even better, I could report my phone as stolen by none other than Eric Andrew Holyfield the Third. That’s a name that everyone knows.
I wait for a few minutes to see if the man’s friend or girlfriend leaves the stalls. After a full twenty minutes, I’ve watched every stall become vacant, and not a single person has acknowledged his presence.
The idea of a state fair having bathroom attendant for porta-potties feels strange and somewhat funny, but I haven’t seen anyone else around who looks like they could be any help. If I choose not to ask him based solely on the absurdity of the situation, I could be setting myself up to wander the grounds for hours.
Whatever his job is, he seems to take it very seriously. That scowl has never left his handsome face the entire time he’s been standing there.
Despite having no other options whatsoever, I’m still hesitant to reach out to this man for help. His expression is unwelcoming and coarse, and he appears to be at least six-foot-three.
I can’t tell if he’s upset about being here or if he’s just irritated by the antics of the kids around him, but he’s the last person here that I’d want to annoy.
He’s certainly not the type of person I’d expect to choose a job like this either. He’s very attractive, so I’d assume that he would naturally want to be somewhere a little more visible and dignified.
Where would that place be in a state fair? I have no idea. But he belongsthere.
He could be here to make sure that people aren’t doing drugs in the porta-potties, but that doesn’t explain why he’s dressed for a wedding.
Maybe if he looked more like a church volunteer, I would have approached him by now, but the tattoos on his neck tell a very different story.
I can already tell that my curiosity is going to get the best of me, so I might as well pick up my feet and make my way over to him.
My legs shake as I take a deep, shuddering breath.
