As people come into the stadium, they register for the free cremation giveaway courtesy of Beckman-Williamson. It's an eductaional thing we're doing, trying to inform people about cremation and provide them with a prize that can potentially save a lot of heartache, time, and money.
After they register, a majority of the people go down to the picnic area to take a gander at the three final contestants in the Car Survivor promotion, sponsored by Lathem Auto. Darlene, Will, and Carlos are still in the car, half delirious from lack of sleep and the effects of the heat, and fans circle around the spectacle like kids around a grade school fight in the cafeteria.
We've got these two promotions running simultaneously, completely separate of one another, and everything is going just as planned.
Then fate takes our plans, crumbles them up, and tosses them in the garbage like a used napkin.
It's getting late into the game, and it's time to pick the winner of the cremation. Alex Fishback, a Brevard County Sheriff's Deputy is chosen to select the winner from the box, and he pulls out a name.
Corey Fisher.
He's the lucky winner of a free cremation, and he needs to come claim his prize. We announce his name over the PA, and nothing. No response. He's gone.
So what do we do? We pick another name out of the box.
Earlier in the evening, this Corey Fisher put his name and the names of several other people here at the stadium into the box. Corey is a friend of Will Campbell, who is sitting in the driver's seat of the Geo, and he gave Will a blank entry form and turned it in for him.
So Corey is gone, Will has an entry form in the box, and what do you think happened next, given the obvious foreshadowing I've laid down?
Our new winner is...Will Campbell?
Yes, that Will. The same one that has been sitting in the car for three days, stinking, sweating, and not wanting to leave empty handed.
Never before have two of our promotions crossed over in such a way. It's unprecedented. So what do we do? What does Will do?
We inform will he has three out to choose between the cremation and the car. He thinks we're trying to lure him out of the car as a joke, a ruse. We're not. This is for real, we tell him.
He's torn.
Do I sit in the car and try to win it, or do I leave now with a certificate for a free cremation, valued at nearly $700 dollars?
This is what runs through his mind as he bakes in the red Geo.
After a few minutes of consideration, I hear over the radio, 'He's coming out of the car, I repeat he's leaving the car.' Will steps out, signs his release form, and gladly accepts the cremation.
...
This morning I get an email from him, and he says:
'It's good to be out of that car. I've already showered and eaten real food and I'm looking forward to finally sleeping horizontally.'