A Night at Copenhagen Airport

Wednesday, September 04, 2013

Leaving L’Estartit, I was feeling a little fragile in body and mind. A combination of two hours sleep, far too much wine at the end of season dinner and a round of goodbyes to people I’d spent every waking moment with for the last two months found me slumped over my suitcase at the bus stop, praying for a helpful stranger to help me summon the herculean strength required to begin this 18 hour journey.

In order to arrive in Berlin on the 1st of September, I’d had to book an evening flight from Barcelona with an 8 hour stopover overnight in Copenhagen through Scandinavian Airways. After spending half my life on a Ryan Air flight, entering the world of non budget airlines was a confusing time. I suspiciously accepted the free cup of tea they offered me, even timidly plucking up the courage for a little bit of milk to accompany it. It really was free. They haven’t even invented a milk tax. This part of the journey was all pretty standard (apart from the tea, which was exceptional); I was still waiting on the difficult part.

Arriving at Copenhagen airport at midnight felt a little like entering the aftermath of a zombie apocalypse; deathly silence apart from the squeak squeak of a mop being dragged along the marble floor whilst bodies lay strewn across benches at awkward angles, shoes discarded in the heaps of baggage around them. I had already Googled to make sure the airport was open 24 hours and sleeper friendly before booking the flight, but I was still relieved to spy cushioned benches and chairs without arm rests spread out all over the airport. I walked what felt like 10 miles to my gate at the opposite end of the airport and plumped for a cosy looking wooden bench covered in a thin layer of blue cushioning. Pulling out three hoodies (1 for a pillow, 2 for blankets) and cursing the day I booked that damned flight, I curled up on the bench for possibly the most undignified sleep of my life. Saying that, I managed a good four hours of frequently interrupted but not awful sleep and was only awoken by the arrival of a flight at my gate and a hoard of passengers gawping at me sorrowfully. My advice if you’re thinking about sleeping at Copenhagen airport? Go for it, but make sure you bring lots of warm clothes and maybe some biscuits to sweeten the bitter pill of a stiff neck in the morning.

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