I slept at the airport before an early flight to avoid waking up at the crack of dawn. The noise and the nerves left me regretting my decision.

• Sleeping in an airport terminal can help save money or avoid an early alarm.
• I gave it a go, but the noise and eerie setting left me struggling to settle down.
• I’ve got one piece of advice to share: don’t do it.

Considering spending the night in an airport before an early flight?

Don’t.

I gave it a shot and ended up sleep-deprived and with a healthy dose of regret.

Friends who have done it before reassured me that London Gatwick Airport had plenty of space to settle down for the night. But the noise and the nerves throughout the small hours left me convinced that I’d rather splash out on an airport hotel or brave an early morning journey.

My flight — for a work trip to Dublin — was at 8:50 a.m., which would have meant getting out of bed around 5 a.m.

After finishing work on Monday, I went for a run to help tire me out before heading to Gatwick at around 11 p.m.

Gatwick, London’s second-busiest airport, is about an hour south of the city by train. Reading a novel in the train’s quiet carriage, I was already starting to drift off.

That all changed as I stepped off the warm train onto the breezy platform, then into the terminal with its clinical lights and squeaky white decor.

It all felt rather eerie as I wandered past some empty check-in desks, but I still felt confident that I could get some decent shuteye.

Up some escalators, I found the departures area where a couple of dozen fellow travelers were already set up for the night. Some were lying across rows of seats, others on the floor using heavy backpacks as pillows, and a lucky few in the cozy booths and armchairs of a 24-hour café.

On the one hand, I was reassured by the safety in numbers in case of any would-be thieves during the night. Yet being surrounded by strangers still made it challenging for me to let my guard down and relax.

I folded a hoodie for a makeshift pillow, zipped up my jacket with my valuables inside, and curled up on the bench with my rucksack.

The carry-on size restrictions of a budget airline limited what I could bring, and another hoodie or a neck pillow could’ve made me more comfortable.

A recent apartment move also meant I had waylaid the sleep masks I picked up on other travels. Resorting to cupping my hand over my face, I was envious of the man I saw with a beanie pulled down over his eyes.

I put in my headphones and tried to zone out, but struggled to feel sleepy. Around 1 a.m., I heard the sound of radios passing by and opened my eyes to see police officers doing the rounds.

The whirring escalators and sporadic low chatter were further reminders of the fact that I was in an airport terminal rather than tucked up in bed.

After another 30 minutes, utter doubt settled in. I wrote in my notes app: “How naïve I was to think ‘How bad could it be?'”

But I found more comfort after changing position to lie on my back. I also remembered the cap in my bag and pulled it over my face, Indiana Jones-style.

I finally started to nod off. Then I felt the seats shake.

It happened a few times before I opened my eyes to see a man sitting at the end of my row, charging his phone.

I’m reminded of the “Moby-Dick” scene where Ishmael ends up sharing a bed with the cannibal Queequeg. My companion seemed like a perfectly normal chap, but that was the unsettling sense of trying to sleep with strangers all around.

Moments later, around 2:30 a.m., a trio of men sat amid the napping travelers and started holding court, chatting and chortling.

One of my AirPods then ran out of battery. I decided to go for a walk.

Charging my phone at the Pret a Manger downstairs, I passed the time people-watching. Ground workers in hi-vis vests arriving for work queued for coffee. Two women greeted a bleary-eyed father pushing a stroller, having just arrived on a flight from Cyprus.

This got me thinking how much easier it might be to sleep in the airport with the comfort of friends or family by your side. Or if you’re on vacation, without the inherent stress of a work trip. I imagined being with my mates, somewhere hot, slightly hungover, waiting for a flight home.

I got some early morning hunger pangs and headed back upstairs to the departures area, hoping one of the café’s comfy armchairs might now be free.

Blissfully, there was space.

I ate a bacon roll before slouching down and making the most of the wide armchair. With my cap over my face once more and recharged AirPods back in, I finally drifted off.

Only a couple of hours passed before I woke up around 6:15 a.m., but I was still grateful for the smidge of sleep. My phone alarm went off 15 minutes later as crowds of passengers meandered toward security, and the airport hummed into life.

I tried to steal a bit more shut-eye, but somebody stumbled into my chair, jolting me awake. I finally headed airside and soon boarded my flight.

I’ve struggled to sleep on planes and trains, but the airport terminal was definitely the most challenging.

I don’t think any amount of preparation could’ve let me ignore the strange sensation of being around other people in the liminal space of an airport terminal at night.

Next time, I’d rather pay for a night in a hotel, or embrace the 5 a.m. alarm.

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