‘I went to airport Wetherspoons at 7am to see simply how boozy Brits get’
There I was, marching through the airport at 7am with only one thing on my mind, getting in The Windmill.
It seems even the most sensible of Brits succumb to the temptation of an airport beer or alternative alcohol of choice in the name of tradition. Such a joyous practice hit the headlines last month after Ryanair boss, Michael O’Leary called pre-plane boozing into question. He did so in response to an apparent rise in drunken thuggery causing at best frustrated air stewards, and at worst costly diversions for emergency landings.
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O’Leary said: “People are waiting around at airports and they keep lorrying alcohol into them. Most of our passengers show up an hour before departure.
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“That’s sufficient for two drinks. But if your flight is delayed by two or three hours you can’t be guzzling five, six, eight, 10 pints of beer. Go and have a coffee of a cup of tea. It’s not an alcoholics’ outing.”
So in a bid to get a better idea of this airport drinking culture, there was only one thing for yours truly to do. Take on the arduous task of waking up at an unholy hour of the morning to witness – and perhaps partake in – the airport pint-swigging phenomenon well before pubs across the country even open for the day.
And where better for my investigation than a Wetherspoon at London Stansted Airport where a constant stream of Ryanair flights depart daily.
(Image: Charles Wadepalmer)
Making the trip extra interesting was the fact ‘Spoons chief Sir Tim Martin hit back at his Ryanair counterpart, insisting: “We’ve had no complaints about our pubs from the airport authorities or airlines in recent years. Years ago we stopped ‘shooters’ at airports. Ryanair in contrast offers a discount on Irish whiskey if a double is ordered.”
Gleaming from a total absence of queues for security, l side-stepped the especially keen army of fragrance-sellers in lining the winding path through Duty Free. Then, as is so often the case with airports positioning Wetherspoon pubs at the very back of departures, I ignored the first trendy bar in eyeshot as easily as I did SuperDry – a shop with almost as much a stranglehold on airports as the inevitable WH Smiths.
Without so much of a tote or bum bag I headed straight for The Windmill, a pub some of you may recall us reporting to have been ranked not only the best airport Wetherspoons in the UK, but the eighth best airport restaurant in the world, according to The Family Vacation Guide.
(Image: Charles Wadepalmer)
“Sorry you got 20 pence on you?,” was the first thing I heard a man asked his mate as I pulled out my earphones.
There may have been a wide-array of holidaymakers and travellers seated in the pub, but it wasn’t long before I spotted the majority were bound by what decorated their respective tables. A chalice of golden Stella Artois lager neatly placed beside a rather sad-looking fry-up was all the rage that Thursday morning. Cast aside to the corner of one table flanked either side by several blokes was a lonely stack of toast with only rejected fried eggs for company.
You’d be forgiven, however, for comparing the sparse bars to an eight-person deep queue for the refillable coffee machines, and concluding that even in an airport caffeine is the legal drug of choice at 7am. But I wasn’t there to make snap judgements, for more was to be read from the hundreds of filled seats. Not least the Wetherspoon app rendering the physical bar a mere choice for ordering. Get up at your peril, chairs are a precious commodity.
(Image: Charles Wadepalmer)
There really was barely a spare table available but as is the unique thing about an airport pub, no one hangs around for long and so a cycle of musical chairs – albeit with no music – is set in motion for the entire day. A couple of girls celebrated walking in at the exact time a much coveted window table with views of the runway became available.
The atmosphere is undeniably jovial and understandably full with excitement as within this boozy bubble, all but those in uniform were destined for far away lands. I can’t have been the only one, though, whose time spent relaxing was burdened with the slight apprehension of making my flight in time. The pub helpfully has departure information on a constantly updated screen but not even my impeccable vision can quite work it out.
(Image: Charles Wadepalmer)
If you can’t beat them, join them. Mine was a Stella and possibly the earliest I’ve ever had one at that. Who knew how easily it could go down less than three hours after waking up? ‘I don’t have a problem, civilian drinking rules don’t apply in these four walls,’ I told myself.
It wasn’t like I was having a Guinness like some lads around me. Yes, suddenly I found myself disgracing others’ choices to justify my own.
Every so often a member of a group would take it upon themselves to hurry their pals along, standing up to clutch their bag off the carpet and firmly place their empty glass on the table. Fun time is over for them this morning, until cabin crew bring out the refreshments trolley on their respective flight, that is. But not everyone has been keeping up, it is early after all. One bloke saw off a bottle of Peroni as his mates clocked their gate was boarding.
(Image: Charles Wadepalmer)
Dotted around The Windmill were briefly abandoned tables laden with half-full pints of lager. A sorry sight of beer poured but no time to be enjoyed.
But that almost sums up the pre-flight pub trip in a nutshell. For as far as I could see on a Thursday morning, alcohol wasn’t being consumed for its effects but for the activity of drinking it, itself. There were no stags in fancy dress, no drunken swaying or pint-spilling mishaps and most certainly no animosity.
Maybe booze-fuelled anti-social incidents on planes are – just as in town centres up and down the country – a shameful exception rather than the rule.
