Sleeping in the airport

We had arranged our flights so that we connected in London and went on to Marrakech all on the same day. But British Airways had other plans, and shifted our times around so that the connection we had carefully plotted months ago would no longer work. So, we bend like the willow and flex our plans accordingly.
We arrived in Heathrow very early on Tuesday morning- we crossed the Atlantic Ocean in a little more than six hours! There was one heck of a tailwind helping us on our way. In fact, we were so ahead of schedule that we had to circle London for a while, because noise ordinances prohibit jets from landing earlier than 6 am.
The next adventure was getting to Gatwick Airport, about an hour away. We had done our homework online, and purchased tickets for the National Express bus. It was very easy to locate, with the help from the purple-jacketed airport info folks. “Cheerio!” Really, he actually said that after giving us directions.
We hopped on the bus with only a handful of others, and arrived in no time at all. I guess that means I slept through most of the ride. Gatwick is small and easy to navigate, so we made our way to the South Terminal, and found Bloc Hotel on level three. After giving us a discount coupon for the cafe across the terminal, the receptionist invited us to come back for a complimentary early check in at noon. By that time we could hardly keep our eyes open, and we staggered off to our cubicle for a nap.
Room 552 is a study in economy of space. It must be less than 150 square feet: big enough for a double bed, a night table, and floor space to open 2 suitcases. The bathroom is compact to the point of hilarity. Suffice to say one can shower and use the commode simultaneously.
But the beauty of this little nook is its location inside the airport, and its complete and utter soundproofing. Plus everything is controlled by a tablet mounted above the night table. So please excuse me. I must reach over and play with the window shades now. I’ll be back at 5 am for the next leg of our journey. Cue the music: “Don’t you know we’re riding on the Marrakech Express. They’re taking me to Marrakech. All on board the plane…”

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