Scott Klasek (Section 301 with Tiffany), 12/2/10

I decided I'd better warn my friends beforehand. My facebook status read, "I'm living without plastic tomorrow as part of an environmental studies project, so if you want to contact me, I don't know.... send me a bird or something." Some had a bit of an averse reaction: "What if I have to contact you?" but at least I had warned them. No phone or computer for a full day, and these were just two tips of the plastic-free iceberg.

I laid down two exceptions to the rule the day beforehand, because without them, my day would be completely miserable. I would wear my glasses and use the bus to get to class. Contacts are also plastic, and I live way too far from campus to be able to walk comfortably to classes, especially in this weather.

Before midnight, I scurried to prepare everything for my plastic-free day. I removed the leftover spaghetti I was planning on eating for dinner from its tupperware container into a glass bowl and covered it with wax paper. I made a stack of sandwiches and left them out in the kitchen. At this point, I notified my roommate, Trent, about this living-without-plastic-for-a-day project, just to reassure him that I'm not completely insane. I poured a glass of orange juice and a glass of milk and set them in the fridge, and poured some cereal into a bowl for tomorrow's breakfast. I had made plans to meet up with some friends for lunch at the Mediterranean Cafe at 12:30. I really didn't want to have to go through the messy process of packing a lunch without plastic--it would have involved a paper shopping bag and crumbs everywhere. Besides, it felt good to plan things out in advance, like how people must have done in the days before cell phones.

On to hygiene. I prepared the shampoo by placing it into a glass in my shower. Deodorant was simply not going to happen. Because I couldn't begin to conceive of a way to brush my teeth without a toothbrush or a plastic toothpaste tube, I abandoned all hope and just poured some mouthwash into a cup instead. I didn't want to be that guy in class.

I found one of those cardboard-bound notebooks and selected a few old-school pencils, packing them into my backpack for tomorrow. By this time, it was almost midnight, and I gave up on further planning, figuring I could just wing everything else. The computer shut down at 11:57 pm. Goodbye, internets.

The first thing I realized as my alarm clock woke me up was that I could not touch it. Thinking hastily, I grabbed the nearby kleenex box and gave it a good whack, shutting it off. That was a close one. While opening my clothes dresser I realized I had just touched a plastic handle. Did I really just lose already? The dresser is made out of wood, but has plastic handles, so if I opened the dresser without using the handles, I figured I wasn't really using the plastic part. This brought to my attention the enormous gray area up for interpretation in this assignment. Don't use plastic. What is use, exactly? Can I use something if I ignore its nonessential plastic parts, like my dresser, backpack, refrigerator, or hat? What about the things I'm not sure are plastic, like the shower handle? Instead of getting into an ontological crisis, I just decided not to worry about it too much and refrain from using plastics as much as I could help myself. As I turned on the bathroom light, I realized that I had just broken the rule again. It would be pretty challenging to shower in the dark, and even more embarrassing to explain any resulting injuries to a doctor.

The first class went well, except I had broken the rule a third time by sitting in a plastic chair. I didn't really feel like standing or sitting on the floor and drawing attention to myself. While walking between classes, I almost always listen to music, but today I forced my mind to be my own ipod. I began playing/imagining Dirty Projectors songs in my head as I walked. I realized I could have chosen Saturday to do all this, but I really wanted a weekend free of complications. Any other day is out of the question--I work in a microbiology lab all other weekdays where I use a lot of plastic petri dishes and test tubes, and Sundays I have a radio show where I operate a plastic sound board. Other than the plastic chairs, classes were alright. I took a whole bunch of chicken-scratch notes using dull pencils, and caught up on my reading in between. Not bringing my laptop or phone with me made it easier to be productive, and in general, I felt a lot less obligated.

I caught up with my friend Tyler in my final class. He's also in 113, and after I told him that I was taking the plastic challenge, he and I discussed how far one could take it. (Polyester in just about all types of clothing? Good point. I hadn't checked--I just assumed this was entirely cotton. And what about my shoes?) The only way, we concluded, that somebody could truly go plastic-free would be to spend 24 hours naked in the woods, rather unlikely in the freezing Wisconsin December. But then, what if we all have residues of plastic inside us, like DDT? Maybe, Tyler remarked, the point of this assignment is to realize its futility.

I really, really wanted some tea when I got home. No microwave, and absolutely no electric

water heater. I filled a small metal pan with water and put it on the stove, pretending not to notice that the dial was plastic as I turned the burner on. I'd have to do it with the leftover spaghetti anyway. I realized how half-assed I'd gotten with this project, and imagined other 113 students eating nothing but granola for the whole day. But eventually, I made it without any other violations. The sandwiches I made were hardened and crusty after being left out overnight, but I was still hungry enough to eat one. I didn't turn on anymore light switches after that, and discovered it's actually possible to go to the bathroom in the dark. I spent the last few plastic-free hours of the day getting some more reading done (luckily my roommates had left the living room light on for me). I was also craving some food that was not peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. After midnight had rolled around, I had already taken a handful of chocolate chips out of their plastic bag, begun chatting on gmail, and started heating up another cup of tea in the microwave, while checking my phone to see if anyone had mistakenly tried to phone me, wondering why the hell I wasn't picking up.