I lived like it was 1993 for a week and here’s what happened

Last week, I embarked upon an experiment. I wanted to know what it would feel like to live as if it were 1993 again. That year was the tail end of the analog era, just before the internet and Windows 95 and the first dot com bubble. I was a kid then, so I had some memory of how things were. But could I still function in that world today?

For one week, I lived without modern technology unless it was absolutely necessary for work and emergencies. I carried a Discman, scribbled in a paper planner, and made phone calls instead of texting. It was chaotic at first, but oddly calming by the time it was all over. Here’s how my week went.

Woke up like normal. Wait, no I didn’t. My phone alarm didn’t go off, because I no longer had a smartphone. Those hadn’t been invented yet. I was late. Got up, rushed around, got my kids fed and dressed and off to school.

I completely forgot what I was supposed to do next because I had no reminders or even a calendar. By this point, I was thinking maybe I should have prepped a little before starting this experiment.

Thankfully, I actually lived through 1993 once already, albeit as a kid, but at least I knew what to look for. Tracking down a functioning Discman was no easy feat, however. The thrift stores had a bunch, almost all of them broken. I finally found one that worked well enough, along with some CDs: Alice in Chains, Red Hot Chili Peppers, and Ace of Bass.

For those who never used one, a Discman is a portable CD player about the size of a paperback novel. It skips when you walk, eats AA batteries, and looks like a museum artifact. I normally stream music from YouTube Music, but for this week, I had to rely on physical discs.

I also grabbed a Blue Jays pennant celebrating their two back-to-back World Series wins in 1992 and 1993.

Media in the 90s hit different

The Discman was fragile and drained AA batteries almost as quickly as I could swap them out. I had to recharge them overnight. Yes, I used rechargeables, so I guess I cheated a little. The Discman was also incredibly quick to skip, unless I stood perfectly still.

There were no podcasts in the 90s, so I replaced those with AM talk radio for about a minute, and then switched to FM. It felt strange not choosing what to listen to on demand, but it was also freeing. It was one less thing I needed to worry about.

Admittedly, I used my Xbox to play DVDs I borrowed from the library. Nobody had VHS, and I couldn’t even find a VHS player at the second-hand stores, so we had to settle for DVD. But going to the library with my kids and picking out some movies brought back a deep nostalgia for Blockbuster. My kids even had the same excitement I remember having, so this was a total win. So was watching The Simpsons every day, just like when I was a teenager.

I had to recreate the feel of having a landline phone. We don’t have a landline here in the Drescher home, so I flipped my trusty RedMagic 10 Pro over on a table in the hallway and it became our DeFacto home phone. It was weird. Every time I wanted to get in touch with someone, I had to walk to the hallway and pick it up, just like I used to do with the family phone on the kitchen wall in the 90s.

I forced myself to make phone calls instead of sending messages, an event which took one of my friends completely by surprise when his phone rang and I was on the other end. It may have been the first time I’ve ever called him, despite knowing him for years.

The Discman started skipping like mad on one of my daily jogs, which turned into a slow-motion walk. For some reason, it started doing this thing where once it began skipping, it never stopped. I found I had to take the CD out and put it back to reset it. I’d take an iPod over this, but I would have had to wait another ten years.

Without my Fastmail calendar or ToDoist, I was lost. My first two days were a grind, although by Wednesday, I was already getting used to not having messages or social media. It was surprisingly refreshing, to be honest. I had also solved my task management problem by picking up a day planner from the dollar store. I figured I would only use it for a week, so there was no point in splurging.

This required a bit of initial self-discipline. There were no push notifications or buzzing smartwatches, so I had to make myself check the planner multiple times per day. Everything was manual. Adding events took the kind of thoughtful precision I had completely forgot about. It was more work, but I found it helped me focus. Writing tasks by hand made them feel real, and I seemed to remember them better, as well.

Thursday: Sending a postcard the old way

I was cruising through my week by Thursday. I hadn’t grown sick of Alice in Chains or Ace of Bass, surprisingly. It would have been nice to have splurged on some more CDs, but I decided not to spend too much money on this.

I also sent a postcard to a friend who lives in Alberta, on the other side of the country from me here in Ottawa. I sent it as a joke. A real-life postcard. I even went and bought a stamp for it and everything. Normally, I would have sent him a meme or GIF over RCS or Messenger, but those things didn’t exist in 1993. Too bad Canada Post, our national mail carrier, went on strike right then. In the 90s, I wouldn’t have expected an instant reply anyway.

I’ve been spoiled for games in the modern era, because when I downloaded a copy of the original Sid Meier’s Civilizations and fired it up, I was horrified. The graphics are practically neolithic. The options are as basic as anything. I realized how far we’ve come in gaming.

I game on a modern PC or an XBox Series X nowadays, or strap my Quest 2 on my head and play golf when I’m feeling motivated. I’m used to detailed graphics, ray effects, sprawling storylines, and high framerates. Games in 1993 had none of that! And yet I remember playing Civilization, Wolfenstein, and Lemmings for hours at a time.

What I learned from a low-tech week

The day ended and with that, my week of living in 1993. I realized how little some things have changed. For example, the microwave, fridge, food, and other appliances were pretty much all the same. But life was definitely slower and quieter in 1993. This experiment reminded me how often I rely on modern tech to fill every idle moment. Dropping it for a week made me more present in the moment, at least temporarily.

I listened to entire albums instead of playlists. I remembered plans. I talked to people on the phone and laughed with my kids. This kind of stuff matters.

Would I do it again? Sure. Would I recommend it? Maybe, especially if you’re feeling overwhelmed with life. Simply unplug for a bit and groove to some Ace of Bass.