<\/p>\n
I can let you have maybe 75, 100 pounds of regrind, but I don\u2019t have any floorsweep\u2026<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Is it virgin, or contaminated mix? I ask.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Some virgin, some recycled\u2026<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Which is how I found myself driving on the LIE for 3 hours on a Friday before New years Eve.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Marina is my oldest and dearest friend- I would do anything for her. Including sourcing 300 pounds of recycled plastics pellets to fill Tyvek bodybags designed to hold cattle, wolves, humans and roadkill. Don\u2019t ask.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
I found Joe at Domino Plastics after a long internet trawl; which started by typing \u201crecycled plastic pellets\u201d into Google. Which Google insisted, rather testily, was \u201crecycled plastic pallets\u201d. No<\/em>, I murmured to the underlined blue suggestion, it\u2019s definitely pellets<\/em>. With an electronic sigh, Google brought up a list of facilities.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n A map came up showing me a network of sparse dots strewn across a map of America. They ranged across a belt of former industrial heartland, the forgotten backwash of American industry- Allentown, PA; Dalton, Georgia. Head offices in Michigan, Wisconsin, Tennessee. North Texas.\u00a0 In a click, I was transported to shadow world of corrugated metal industrial park units, gravel-strewn lots and forests of shipping containers.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n I began to populate the addresses with visions\u2026. a nondescript front reception, in warehouses that sat on the outskirts of sleepy towns, their mills long silent. A sensible midwestern girl in mom-jeans sipped a recycled plastic cup of water-cooler water while she updated spreadsheets in an air-conditioned unit that sat on the rusty tracks of long-disused freight lines.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n The magical names of the towns sung of a secret world, where truckloads of brightly coloured pellets were traded like wheat, or corn or soybeans; from the trashyards of the United States; to the vast reprocessing factories of China; to the custom manufacturing processes of the first world. A triangle trade of unwanted Lego bricks, cattle ear tags, plastic clothes hangers and PET-soda bottles all destined for\u00a0 a new incarnation as bubble wrap, weatherproof deck boarding or storage boxes.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n I emailed Marina. \u2026found what you want, I think it\u2019s called re-grind. Or floorsweep. Here are some links\u2026 I\u2019m getting on the phone- will email more later<\/em>\u2026 I pressed send.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u201cHi, happy holidays to you, this is Colles\u201d said an efficient girl in Pennsylvania.<\/p>\n \u201cHi\u201d, I said. \u201cI wonder if you can help?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI hope so\u201d, she said, brightly.<\/p>\n \u201cI need to source about two- to three hundred pounds of recycled plastic pellets. They\u2019re for an artist, who is making some sculptures filled with them?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWe don\u2019t usually deal in that kind of quantity\u201d, she said, \u201cBut I\u2019ll pass you through to our salesman, Tony. Please hold\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n While I listened to orchestral chestnuts roasting on an open fire, I typed\u00a0 \u2018minimum order, plastic pellets\u2019 into Google. Yet again, the software changed my request to pallets. \u201cNo, I did NOT mean pallets!\u201d<\/em> I snarled at the computer.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u201cHi, this is Tony\u201d A bright voice answered the phone.<\/p>\n \u201cHi\u201d, I started, \u201cI don\u2019t know if you can help, but I was wondering where I could get hold of some plastic pellets?\u201d I paused. \u201cBut I don\u2019t need, like, a truckload.\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n I glanced at my computer. Google shrugged, a spewed out a list of pellets not pallets<\/em>. Documents, price lists and shipping manifests filled the screen.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n He seemed polite, but distant. \u201cWhat kind of quantity are you looking for?\u201d\u00a0 As I was clearly not a large sale prospect, he relaxed audibly.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t know, maybe a couple of hundred pounds? But they have to be recycled, preferably PET, or HDPE? A polymer? It\u2019s for an artist. She is making a few sculptures that need the pellets for stuffing.\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u201cWow\u201d, he said, perking up. \u201cThat\u2019s pretty interesting. Can you tell me more about the project?\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n I smiled. The mention of an art project seems to bring out the nascent arts-and-crafter in all of us. As if we can take a break from the adult world of business and commerce and go back to a time of freedom; paste in our hair and clay under our fingernails. The chance to be a small part in the creation of a work of art seems to foster the best in us- cooperation, collaboration, imagination\u2026<\/p>\n <\/p>\n We talked about the different textures of plastics. Chunky regrind. Uniform plastic pellets in a rainbow of colors. Contaminated mix- where odd colours somehow snuck into a uniform mixture, rendering it unsuitable for specialist manufacturing. Purge, where cleaning out the machines resulted in a pyroclastic flow of intestinal-looking shapes. Floorsweep- in varying grades of contamination; with rope, with paper, with metal shards.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n As we talked, I realized that there was a busy world out there of people making money from the most unglamorous part of the manufacturing process. With plastic so ubiquitous in our lives, the amount of industrial processing must be staggering to consider- and here were the folk at the edges of the vast sea of goods and products, able to sell the slimmest of pickings to a ready market.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s really too small a quantity\u201d, said Tony. \u201cWe generally sell by the truckload. Or the containerload. We\u2019re talking 20-30 thousand pounds, minimum. For a two-three hundred pound quantity, the shipping will kill ya. It\u2019ll be better if you can find a place nearer to you and drive out and pick some up\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u201cDo you know of anywhere, preferably in the Tri-State area\u201d, I said. \u201cWe are in Brooklyn\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u201c\u2026yeah, there\u2019s a guy\u2026\u201d he paused. I could hear plastic clicks. \u201cYeah, there\u2019s a guy in Long Island. Domino Plastics. Sorry I couldn\u2019t help. Tell you friend good luck with her project, It sounds kinda weird, but interesting,\u201d He laughed, \u201cWish I coulda seen it.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThanks, Tony!\u201d I said. \u201cYou\u2019ve been so helpful! Happy new year.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAnd to you!\u201d, he said.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n I called Domino\u2019s but got an answering machine. I left a message I hoped would pique their interest, hoping for a callback.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Marina called me. I was breathless with excitement. \u201cYou have no idea!\u201d I said. \u201cIt\u2019s a whole new world! There\u2019s this stuff called contaminated mix! And floorsweep! And purge! It\u2019s completely awesome!\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n She seemed nonplussed by my excitement. \u201cCan we get some?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI think there\u2019s a minimum order of about 20,00 pounds at 20-30 cents a pound\u2026<\/p>\n \u201cWhat????…\u201d<\/p>\n \u201c..but I\u2019m working on it. We may have to drive to Long Island if we need it by January 3rd<\/sup>\u2026I\u2019ll call you back.\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n On that cold Thursday before New years Eve, I sat at my parent\u2019s dining room table in Brooklyn making phone call after phone call. Most places were closed. Some were open, and you could hear the cheery sound of piped Christmas music in the background.\u00a0 All the people I spoke to were unfailingly polite, and seemed interested and intrigued by my strange request.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n I was stunned by the sheer variety of the kind of waste being sold and traded. The thought of all this industrious commerce cheered me up, as I considered\u00a0 terrifying mountains of plastic waste being bundled, sold, reground, processed and given new life.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n In the North of England, there\u2019s a saying: where there\u2019s muck, there\u2019s brass<\/em>.<\/p>\n (translation- where there\u2019s waste that no one wants, there\u2019s money)<\/p>\n <\/p>\n I was getting nowhere and it was getting late. I thought about posting on Freecycle for unwanted beanbag chairs. I looked at ebay, crafting sites, retailers. No one had the quantity or the right kind of material.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n I emailed Marina \u2026.not having much luck here. Most places closed. Would you consider Styrofoam filler? Or bubble wrap? Could maybe get hold of beanbag filler but it\u2019s expensive\u2026still waiting on Long Island guy- will call you<\/em>.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n I called Domino back. By now I had my patter to a fine art.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n A voice answered. \u201cHello?\u201d<\/p>\n Male, a five-boroughs accent.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u201cHi, is this Domino\u2019s?\u201d I asked hesitatingly.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u201cYeah\u201d, he said, \u201cThis is Joe.\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n I launched into my speech. I was trying to source some plastic pellets (not pallets) for an artist. They had to be recycled. I\u2019d prefer floorsweep but purge or regrind was OK.\u00a0 I didn\u2019t need that much, certainly not a truckload. And there was a time limit.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u201cSo, how much do you need? \u201c he asked. I got the feeling there was a skeleton crew operating over the holidays.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m sorry to bother you\u201d, I said. \u201cI guess you aren\u2019t open over the holidays?\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u201cYeah, but I am still working. I have the number hashed through to my cell. I\u2019m not at the unit right now. I think I can help you if you can get yourself out here. I got maybe a couple of hundred pounds of samples\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u201cOh my god!\u201d I cried breathlessly, \u201cOf course I can! Thank you so much! \u2026.Of course we can get out there! I can get out to you tomorrow! What time would suit?<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u201cWell\u201d, he said,\u201d Slow down! I\u2019m not there right now. Let me get out there and I will see what I have\u2026I can call you back later\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ll call you,\u201d I said excitedly, \u201cI have to run out and meet the artist and I am not sure what my cell number is. Oh! She will be so happy We\u2019ve been scouring the earth for this stuff! Do you know how hard this quantity is to source?\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n He started to laugh. \u201cYeah, it\u2019s usually sold by the truckload\u2026it\u2019s not what you can usually find in an art supply store, I guess\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u201cOK, Joe, thanks! You totally rock. I\u2019ll call you later.\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n I hung up and called Marina instantly.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u201cHow would you feel about a run out to East Setauket tomorrow?\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n In the morning, I called in a favor, dropping my daughter off for the day at the home of a former heavy metal keyboardist and his pet-rat-owning daughter (also ten). He\u2019s an old high-school friend. We\u2019ve known each other for more than 30 years. As I hurriedly explained our mission, he shrugged. Currently an EMT, on a Brooklyn nightshift, nothing surprised him.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u201cSounds crazy\u201d, he said. \u201cI\u2019ll see ya later. Let me know how it goes. We\u2019ll drink beer.\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Marina, my husband Richard and I drove my parents\u2019 old people-carrier out to Long Island through the insane traffic on the LIE. The winter sun was dazzling on the highway as the stop and go tail-lights of Nassau ebbed to a steady stream of traffic; which dwindled as we got closer to Port Jefferson. Hyped on strong coffee, we could hardly contain our enthusiasm.\u00a0 After nearly two hours, we pulled into a non-descript string of units on the aptly-named Technology Drive in an industrial park.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Although it was bitterly cold, no snow had yet fallen; the clipped lawn outside of the unit was still brilliant green.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n We opened the office door, and shouted \u201cHello?\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n The office had a nice-looking desk, a water cooler and an unplugged Christmas tree. It was empty.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Beyond was a cavernous unit, which was sparsely filled with boxes, metal shelves and a rather nice-looking Persian rug. A dog bone sat on the edge of the carpet. A pile of boxes, spilling diamond-bright translucent grey pellets sat on the edge of the carpet.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n An athletic-looking blonde man in a red woolen lumberjack shirt and worn jeans rose from a desk along one wall and came out to greet us, hands outstretched. \u201cJoe? Hi!, I\u2019m Marcia,\u201d I said. \u201cWe spoke on the phone? This is my husband Richard and this is Marina, the artist.\u00a0 Thanks so much for letting us come today!\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n He walked with the swagger of an ex-fireman. \u201cYeah, no problem. I wasn\u2019t doing much, just clearing out the samples\u2026 There\u2019s a bunch of this stuff, I don\u2019t know how much you want\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Marina stepped out from behind me and thrust a bottle of wine into his hand. \u201cHey, thanks, Joe. We really appreciate it\u201d, she said.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u201cSo\u2026tell me about the project?\u201d said Joe.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Marina took out her ipad. On it were drawings, plans: A close up of the printed Tyvek. A child\u2019s biohazard suit on a mannequin.\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cI think about all the bodies of marine life, decomposing, making petroleum- which are then made into objects which are virtually immortal,\u201d she said, simply.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Joe was entranced. He looked carefully at the set of photographs and drawings, pausing over each. Gently, he handed back the ipad. Then he took us over to the piles of boxes sitting on the edge of the carpet, their contents glittering like the jealously-guarded hoard of an industrial dragon.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u201cWe got some virgin here\u201d, he said. He held up Ziplocs full of brightly-coloured pellets. They glittered like rubies.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u201cThese are beautiful!\u201d She exclaimed.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n I snooped around the edges of the pile. I spotted a letter on top of a box- \u201cShot gun shells?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u201cYeah, we have a guy, he want to sell us processed shotgun shells. It\u2019s somewhere out in Texas,\u201d he laughed. \u201c\u2026 they must do a lot of shooting, cause they have truckloads of the stuff!\u201d He shrugged. \u201cBut it\u2019s contaminated, with paper, you know? So we can\u2019t use it. And he wants a lot of money for it\u2026.I got some around here somewhere\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u201cCan we have it?\u201d\u00a0 I asked eagerly – shooting Marina a look of apology. I thought this is her project, stupid!<\/em><\/p>\n <\/p>\n He rummaged around until he brought out a bag of shredded plastic, sectioned off into another bag of dull grey pellets.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Marina dug through a box. She spotted a treasure and held up a bag of yellow and black fragments- \u201cwhat is this?\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u201cCattle ear tags,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Marina and I looked at each other in triumph. \u201cThat\u2019s perfect\u201d, she breathed. \u201cThere\u2019s a cattle body bag here\u201d- she picked up the ipad and flicked to the plans. Joe looked over her shoulder at a drawing of a printed Tyvek, cattle-shaped body bag.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n I held up a gnarled mass of white stringy plastic that looked like evacuated worm load. \u201cWhat\u2019s this?\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u201cThat\u2019s purge\u201d, he said. \u201cYou know, when they clean the machine\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u201cCan we have it?\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u201cYeah, there\u2019s some more around here\u2026.\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n He held up a plaque of mottled purple mixed with grey.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Richard, Marina and I were like kids at Christmas. Sifting through sacks of pellets, fragments and lumps in varying sizes, textures and colours.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u201cWhat\u2019s this?\u201d\u00a0 Marina held up a bag of brightly colored fragments, all mixed together.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u201cRegrind. That\u2019s Megablocks. You know, competitors to Lego?\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u201cI thought Lego was immortal,\u201d said my husband.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Joe laughed. \u201cPretty much! Yeah, we sell it to this factory, they make planks out of it. For decking; you know, benches\u2026\u201d He held up a muddy gray-green plastic plank.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u201cI was doing some research on this today…I guess a lot of this stuff ends up going to China, India?\u201d\u00a0 I said.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u201cYeah,\u201d he said. \u201cIt\u2019s like the Wild West, you know? I got guys selling me stuff from all over. We buy the stuff from factories; garment manufacturers…Plastic hangers\u2026 I got guys who take the metal, a place that takes the foam off the hangers, a guy who takes the plastic hangers and regrinds them into plastic bubble wrap\u2026 I got guys who have tons of drink bottles, old plastic toys. The sweepings of the factory floors. We get stuff when a run of color virgin pellets gets contaminated.\u00a0 When they clean the machines- the purge that comes out. A bunch of it goes off to China, India, the Phillipines, by the truckload, boatload. \u201c<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s incredible,\u201d I said. \u201cI never knew.\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u201cYeah, most people don\u2019t see it,\u201d he said. \u201cIt\u2019s funny, since the website, we get these old ladies calling us saying can we take a bunch of their kids\u2019 old toys. I say, lady unless you got a truckload of them, we can\u2019t help you\u2026it says we buy plastic on the website, you see\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u201cIs there anything you can\u2019t recycle?\u201d asked Marina.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n He pointed to a few bright orange plastic pyramids on the floor.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u201cWhat are those?\u201d Marina asked<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u201cTruck chocks,\u201d he said. \u201cStop the truck rolling. A guy\u2019s got a truckload of these, don\u2019t know where he got \u2018em. But he sends me a few and I can tell they\u2019ve got phenolic resin in them. Can\u2019t use \u2018em, needs a special process. Too contaminated…\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n He strolled over to the wall, where a couple of vinyl records were tacked up, with labels that said Domino Plastics where the labels normally held track listings.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u201c…And composites. Where they got plastic mixed with paper. We bought like a million of these old records. China\u2019s the only place they got that can take the paper off the record. The labor\u2019s cheap enough. They regrind it and there you go, more vinyl\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u201cSo, you need it to be one color? One material?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u201cYeah,\u201d he said. \u201cYou gotta be careful\u2026 We got call from this guy. He says, I got clear plastic, two truckloads\u2026 So I say OK, I can give you 30c a pound for it , cause I can sell it to my guy who makes clear plastic wrap\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s worth more if it\u2019s just clear?\u201d I say<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u201cYeah\u2026 So I spend like $2,000 on shipping and the customer calls me and says \u2018This stuff, I can\u2019t use it. It has colors in it\u2019 \u2026So I say to the first guy, \u2018you said it was all clear! And my guy has two truckloads of contaminated that he can\u2019t use\u2019…\u00a0 So the first guy says to me, yeah, it\u2019s definitely clear. I say- well my guy says it has colors and he can\u2019t use it. And now I gotta find him some clear and you just cost me shipping… I tell him, you want it back, you gotta go pick it up- I\u2019m out the shipping anyway- or I\u2019m gonna send it to China at 2c a pound! So eventually he goes and gets it. You take a risk, you see\u2026I won\u2019t pay these guys til I know it\u2019s what they say it is.\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u201cYou don\u2019t see it?\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u201cI see samples, but you know, sometimes they send me stuff and it isn\u2019t what my customer gets. And that\u2019s what you\u2019re getting. I gotta clean this place out- new year, new stuff. Some of these samples, I can\u2019t use. That\u2019s what you\u2019re getting. Or old ones that aren\u2019t active. These are the ones I still use.\u201d He gestured to the dozens and dozens of boxes sitting neatly on metal shelving.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n We rummaged around the unit, finding treasures. Joe walked over to the ipad and looked again at the images for the show- bodybags, folk-art-like prints of biohazard and petrochemical symbols.\u00a0 On his desk was a textbook – Industrial Polymers- and his computer was open, with several windows full of spreadsheets.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u201cI guess we should go leave you in peace,\u201d my husband said. Mindful of the fact that our enthusiasm was probably now starting to irritate Joe.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Joe looked relieved. \u201cI\u2019ll help you load the van.\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n We carried the boxes out to the car. They settled into the trunk;\u00a0 the protosculptures of purge looking like expensive home d\u00e9cor items.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u201cCome to the opening!\u201c said Marina. \u201cWe couldn\u2019t have done it without your help.\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u201cYeah, I\u2019d like that\u201d said Joe.\u00a0 We slammed the door of the people carrier. \u201cWait! Just thought of something.\u201d He went running back to the unit.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n I climbed into the driver seat. \u201cI need coffee,\u201d I said to Marina. She nodded, distracted, her mind full of visions of pellets spilling like arterial bleeds from the zips of the body bags. My husband settled into one of the back seats, huddled in his overcoat.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Joe came running back, a perfectly clear ice-bright piece of purge in his hands. It sparkled like a crystal model of an internal organ in the winter noonday sun. \u201cI just thought you would like this.\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s just\u2026.beautiful\u201d said Marina.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n And it was.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u2013\u00a0Marcia Sardy Schofield
\nDec 29, 2012<\/p>\n
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