Having never driven further than Southampton on my own, I made it to Gatwick Airport (in 2:48, for those who like to know such things), got the bus to the terminal and went to find out what happens if you prepay for car parking and then turn up ten hours early. No one knew.
I went to claim my pod. I’d imagined a box in the middle of the terminal. What I found was Philip K Dick’s purple-tinted vision of the future underground. Corridors lit in purple, pods stacked herringbone-style, one up, one down. Purple-lit pods, with portholes opening onto the corridor, miniature bathrooms behind sliding glass doors and beds in boxes with padded edges. I conclude that the reason the bed has a low ceiling is because the bed in the next room is above me, so the rooms interlock. They’re very cute. Very purple. Very cosy. You wouldn’t want too much luggage here.
I went to find some food, then decided I’m not going straight to bed, not in an airport. Airports are interesting, especially at night, especially if they’re part building site. I took the transit over to North Terminal, found a spot at the top of the service ramp and watched the planes lining up to land. Even at 11pm it wasn’t cold outside. Now I’m lying in my pod and tomorrow I’ll be up at dawn to find some breakfast and be on my plane nice and early.