Everything Becomes Plastic in the Midwest
We eat off of white plastic forks and spoons and knives, and each of them are wrapped in a stretchy, thin clear plastic to ensure its sanitary value. We bought three big plastic tupperware containers to eat the salads we bought, which came in a thicker plastic bag we had to cut with scissors. We ordered baked potatoes somewhere in Iowa to fight off the cold and warm our bellies, which came in a loud plastic containers, clear on top and black on the bottom. The ramekins the butter and sour cream came in were also plastic.
Plastic variety pack.
From Sacramento to Indiana, with one exception in Colorado, our entire world has turned to plastic. And the towels we use in the rooms we live in, we never see again after we put them on the floor and close the door. We cut everything with a razor sharp (we have the cuts to prove it) pocket knife we picked up a year ago in Knoxville. Each night and morning is the same routine of refilling the tupperware of ice to keep our food from going bad, as well as the loading off and on of the car topper. We’ve hit a lonely stride out here (cue ambient music), so that by the time we were in familiar territory in North Manchester, Indiana last night, we were confusing Febreeze for hairspray and friends for family.
We were inaccurate in our previous blog post, stating that we were three weeks in with two to go. The time out here has our brains mixed, and yesterday– after finally hitting up our first Taco John’s– we realized that there is only one short week left. Nashville feels no closer, though, and we are thrilled and saddened to have these last few days to go. Indiana, Ohio, Pennsylvania, Virginia, North Carolina, and Tennessee will offer us the fall colors we hoped we wouldn’t miss as we sped across the country, and the faces we will finally see again.