Q: Do you have any sleeping rituals you’d care to write about?
TELLER: You don't want to sleep with me. I keep the room as cold as David Letterman's studio and cocoon myself in a thick comforter. I've built shutters in the room so that no light can come in, so it's very tomb-like. I have a white noise generator and a humidifier next to the bed. So it's rather like sleeping in the cold, dark, damp hold of a ship with its engine roaring. When I travel, I always ask for a quiet room, which usually means that they put me over the alley where the garbage is picked up at four a.m. The last time I had been in New York, I stayed at a hotel, at which I'd finally (after several tries) found a quiet room on a high floor. I requested the same room again. When I walked in and looked out the window, this is what I found.