Freegan Ride

Before June of this year, I thought only the sad and desperate ate garbage. Then I discovered the freegans. For those new to the term (free + vegan), a freegan is a person who has decided to boycott capitalist society by severely curtailing consumption of resources through reusing, recycling and Dumpster diving. Taking the expression "Waste not, want not" to its extreme conclusion, freegans try not to purchase anything up to and including food. Instead, they rely on bartering and what the rest of us leave for the garbageman. Now a presence in most American cities, freeganism first popped up out West in Seattle and Portland in the mid-1990s. At first blush, freegans might seem odd and peripheral. But I began to wonder: are they a fringe group reminiscent of our primitive past or are they our carbon-neutral future? At a time when the environmental movement is gaining mainstream acceptance, the freegans are actually living the most hard-core beliefs about consumption and sustainability.

America's overconsumption is legendary. We struggle with morbid obesity, use 25 percent of the world's oil and buy houses we can't afford. If the mildest projections are true, we are recklessly contributing to the warming of the planet. OK, we've made some changes, but does anyone really believe that "carbon offsetting" is anything other than eating your cake and having it, too?

Thus an innocent idea was born. I would live as a freegan for a month. I had nine rules: I would be a vegan who bought nothing but local and/or organic food. I would use only ecofriendly transportation, cut my electricity bill in half and erase my carbon footprint. My mantra would be "Recycle, reuse, renew," while never forgetting to reflect on my impact on the Earth before acting. Any money I saved would go into a "Freedom Savings Account" and be used toward allowing me to quit my 9-to-5 as soon as possible. That's tough work for an eBay-loving, omnivorous, cigarette-smoking shopaholic. But I was determined to change my profligate ways. I would transform myself into an eco-princess—a green goddess.

That's not exactly what happened. Here is a summary diary of what did.

DAY 1: I want a Diet Coke. I am craving sugar. Sometimes a 75-cent packet of Skittles is all that prevents a co-worker from getting slapped. I haven't been the same since I pitched this story. I see waste everywhere. I feel guilty about everything—doing my laundry, spending a day at the mall, leaving my computer on at night, relaxing in the shower, BUYING FOOD AT THE GROCERY STORE. How can absolutely everything I've been taught to do to survive be wrong?

DAY 2: Caught in the rain, unable to buy an umbrella and late for work is not a good start to this experiment. Luckily, I don't give up in the face of hardship, I whine. Lesson #1: People don't want to hear about your moral superiority or the difficulty of a choice you made voluntarily. It's a bit like models saying their jobs are hard or movie stars complaining about the paparazzi (a bit, just a bit). The only possible response from people is Shut Up! So I did. Briefly.