Sleepless in Atlanta
I haven’t exactly been losing any sleep over a study that came out last week, pronouncing Atlanta as the worst city in the U.S. for getting a good night’s sleep.
The study was conducted by a pharmaceutical company, which reported Atlanta’s stressful commute times, as well as high divorce and unemployment rates, placed the city at the top of the poor snoozing list.
Atlanta residents get an average of 9.7 days of sleepness nights per month.
This should be a subject that is very near and dear to my pillow since I spent the first night of my life in Atlanta. I was born at Georgia Baptist Hospital on an April afternoon, and I slept like a baby that night, best I can remember. (Of course, my parents didn’t sleep very well for the next several months. Newborns have a way of playing havoc with your sleep patterns.)
Oh, I have had a few unrestful nights in my life. Some of them involved trying to sleep in a motel room with a co-worker who snored. Some of them involved late-night indigestion or barking dogs or phone calls that shook me out of my slumber. More than a few sleepless nights have been the result of father/son camp-outs in the middle of the woods
Worst night sleep ever? Not counting all those sow-my-wild-oats adventures when I stayed out until the sun came up, it was probably when my father and I spent the night in a motel in Whitehorse, in the Yukon Territory province of Canada. I just couldn’t get over being in the northern hemisphere, when it’s still daylight at 2 a.m.
My worst night sleeping in Atlanta did not involve a motel. It involved trying to sleep in a car when I should have been in a motel. It was 10 years ago this month.
It was the night of Oct. 25, 1996, following Game 5 of the World Series between the Atlanta Braves and New York Yankees. To refresh your memory, it was the final game played in Atlanta-Fulton County Stadium. The Yankees won, 1-0, sending the game back to New York for Game 6. It was late and, rather than get a room for the night, I just went to the parking decks at the Atlanta Airport. I had a red-eye to LaGuardia that morning. Why check into a hotel for three hours sleep?
That was a most fitful night. It was cold. There were cars all around me. Horns. Car doors. Trying to recline in my bucket seat.
Trust me, you can’t sleep in a parking deck in Atlanta. I will never do it again.
The study was conducted by a pharmaceutical company, which reported Atlanta’s stressful commute times, as well as high divorce and unemployment rates, placed the city at the top of the poor snoozing list.
Atlanta residents get an average of 9.7 days of sleepness nights per month.
This should be a subject that is very near and dear to my pillow since I spent the first night of my life in Atlanta. I was born at Georgia Baptist Hospital on an April afternoon, and I slept like a baby that night, best I can remember. (Of course, my parents didn’t sleep very well for the next several months. Newborns have a way of playing havoc with your sleep patterns.)
Oh, I have had a few unrestful nights in my life. Some of them involved trying to sleep in a motel room with a co-worker who snored. Some of them involved late-night indigestion or barking dogs or phone calls that shook me out of my slumber. More than a few sleepless nights have been the result of father/son camp-outs in the middle of the woods
Worst night sleep ever? Not counting all those sow-my-wild-oats adventures when I stayed out until the sun came up, it was probably when my father and I spent the night in a motel in Whitehorse, in the Yukon Territory province of Canada. I just couldn’t get over being in the northern hemisphere, when it’s still daylight at 2 a.m.
My worst night sleeping in Atlanta did not involve a motel. It involved trying to sleep in a car when I should have been in a motel. It was 10 years ago this month.
It was the night of Oct. 25, 1996, following Game 5 of the World Series between the Atlanta Braves and New York Yankees. To refresh your memory, it was the final game played in Atlanta-Fulton County Stadium. The Yankees won, 1-0, sending the game back to New York for Game 6. It was late and, rather than get a room for the night, I just went to the parking decks at the Atlanta Airport. I had a red-eye to LaGuardia that morning. Why check into a hotel for three hours sleep?
That was a most fitful night. It was cold. There were cars all around me. Horns. Car doors. Trying to recline in my bucket seat.
Trust me, you can’t sleep in a parking deck in Atlanta. I will never do it again.
posted by Ed Grisamore at 6:31 AM
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