Tag: thanksgiving

  • Tryptophan Isn’t What Puts You Under on Thanksgiving. It’s the Carbs

    Tryptophan Isn’t What Puts You Under on Thanksgiving. It’s the Carbs

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    Every year, I promise myself I’m not going to eat myself into a food coma: I’ll eat responsibly, front-load my belly with salad, and go light on the turkey and gravy. Instead, I wake up three hours after Thanksgiving dinner, sprawled out like Robinson Crusoe on the living room floor under a pile of my nephews’ toys. My shirt is covered in light brown stains, and greasy handprints smear my jeans.

    What is it about Thanksgiving that sends me—and millions of other Americans—into digestive oblivion? Are we all blissed out on turkey, or is there another reason Thanksgiving is the holiday for sloth?

    You’ve probably heard that turkey meat is dripping with a sleep-inducing chemical called tryptophan. And while it’s true the stuff plays a part in sending your brain into slumber, saying it does so single-handedly is like saying Neil Armstrong jumped to the moon all by himself.

    For one thing, turkey isn’t particularly laden with tryptophan. Ounce for ounce, a roast chicken, grilled steak, or rack of pork spareribs all have comparable amounts. Freeze-dried tofu has about double the amount of tryptophan as turkey, and I doubt you’ll hear your cousin from southern California complain about how sleepy he is after gorging on faux-meat.

    Carbs are the real culprits behind the Thanksgiving sleepies. Cast your heavy-lidded gaze over to the side dishes. Mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, and pie are carb-rich and load your bloodstream with glucose, a sugar. In order to regulate the amount of glucose that makes its way into your muscles, your body releases insulin, which commandeers a bunch of amino acids to help with the job. Tryptophan is also an amino acid, but not useful for glucose regulation. Instead, it’s mostly used by the body to make mood-regulation hormones.

    Normally, tryptophan has limited access to your brain, as it’s blocked by other amino acids. However, when they get called away to help regulate glucose, tryptophan is in the clear. In the brain, it gets converted into serotonin, and then melatonin—known to cause drowsiness.

    Turkey isn’t special. Any food with a modest amount of tryptophan followed by about 30 grams of carbs (a medium plate of spaghetti) will distract the rest of your amino acids long enough to induce that foggy-brain feeling. But the tryptophan/carb combo is only part of the reason for your torpor. What’s more to blame is the fact that you eat. So. Damn. Much.

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  • The Physics of the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade Balloons

    The Physics of the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade Balloons

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    If you double the radius of a balloon, you increase the volume by a factor of eight (since volume is proportional to the radius cubed). But what about the material on the outside of the balloon? Let’s say I want to make everything fair and I increase the thickness of the material by a factor of two for the larger balloon. Since this material only covers the surface area of the balloon, its area would increase by a factor of four. If you include the double thickness, the material of the larger balloon also has eight times the mass of the smaller one.

    But at some point, you don’t need to keep making thicker and thicker balloon skins. I can get some material (let’s say rubber) that is very strong at just one millimeter thick. This means that if I increase the radius of a balloon by a factor of 10, the volume will increase by 1,000 but maybe the mass of the shell only increases by 100. The volume is important because that’s where I get my buoyancy force from.

    Now let’s go the other way. Let’s make a balloon for ants. If I decrease the radius of a regular party balloon by a factor of 100 (really it should even be smaller than that), the thickness of the shell would have to also decrease by 100. These balloons are already pretty thin. Decrease too much and you just wouldn’t have a structure capable of holding the balloon together. Increase the thickness a little bit and the mass gets too high to float. Sorry, no parade balloons for ants.

    Bigger Balloons Are More Difficult

    Yay! I have a giant balloon and it floats. What could be more awesome? Oh sure, I am going to need a bunch of people to hold it down (along with a couple of vehicles), but it’s still a giant balloon. But wait. Giant balloons still have problems. Making things bigger might make it easier to float but it adds other issues.

    The first problem is wind. Sure, that breeze on your little hand-held balloon is annoying. But what happens when you increase the balloon size? This force pushing on the balloon is proportional to the cross-sectional area. If you double the radius of your balloon, you increase this area by a factor of four, which gives four times the air force.

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