• 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.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Richard Smith, 81, who works part-time for the campground where he lives for half of the year and part-time driving for DoorDash. The following has been edited for length and clarity.

My wife and I have done work camping all across the country, including in New Hampshire and even Alaska. Work camping is a lifestyle that combines working and camping. Work campers often trade labor for compensation, which can include a free or discounted campsite, utilities, and sometimes wages.

We bought a house in Florida nine years ago and live there for six months in the winter. Our 42-foot Monaco Class A motor coach is our home for the other half of the year while we work camp. Since 2019, we’ve work camped in New Hampshire. I also do DoorDash in both places.

This year in New Hampshire, I’m working two jobs. I work at the campground Thursday through Sunday nights, and I drive for DoorDash Monday through Wednesday. I’m basically working seven days a week.

I worked for decades in the film industry

I started working back in January 1963 with Eastman Kodak in Rochester, and I worked for them for over 30 years.

I got married very young and had kids very quickly after. I had a family to support, so I worked full-time at Kodak, part-time in the evening at automotive stores, and went to night school. I wish I’d put money aside during this time and let it compound.

In the 1990s, I was offered an opportunity to work in Hollywood at a major motion picture film lab, and I moved out to Los Angeles to be their technical director. I worked for them until around 2004.

At that time, I fully intended on going full-time RVing and doing work camping; it was one of my lifelong dreams to travel the country in an RV. But a great opportunity came up at a university in California, and I worked as a film lab manager for the school’s motion picture and television film lab, where they did archival restoration and preservation of all their film libraries.

I worked for them for another five years. I had planned on staying a few more years until I reached full retirement age, but then they offered me a retirement package in 2009, around the time the economy took a dive.

I accepted and invested my retirement package into a self-directed IRA.

I didn’t save enough for retirement

Unfortunately, my self-directed IRA went to hell due to some stupid decisions; I made some risky investments.

Because I waited until later in life to invest, I wasn’t able to set as much aside for retirement. Most people don’t realize how much they really need for retirement, and more than likely, they’re going to outlive their retirement funds.

In 2009, I came across Workamper News, which was a good resource for finding jobs throughout the country. I signed up as a member, and it’s how I found a lot of work.

My wife and I decided to pack up everything we owned into our RV and a large cargo trailer. We headed to Alaska, where my two sons and grandkids live. We traveled around the country for the next eight years, work camping and visiting family and friends.

DoorDash and work camping help me make some money to pay the bills

Now in New Hampshire, I work as a ranger. I basically patrol the park, mainly at night. My day usually starts around 4 p.m. and ends around 12:30 a.m. I’m paid $15 an hour for my range of work.

Due to my age, I’m mostly restricted to ranger-type work camping jobs, which involve riding in a golf cart, patrolling the park or campground, and maintaining security at night. I can’t do maintenance work, as my health prevents me from doing any bending, lifting, or twisting.

My wife does housekeeping while work camping and takes care of cabins, restrooms, and laundry rooms. You have to pick and choose the work camping jobs that fit your lifestyle and financial needs.

This campsite rental is deeply discounted at $200 a month.

On DoorDash days, I usually start around 3 or 4 p.m. and go until 9 or 10 p.m.; it depends on how frequently the orders come in. My goal every night is to reach about $100, and sometimes, I go well over that.

I started doing DoorDash last winter. I couldn’t find a six-month, part-time job, so another work camper introduced me to DoorDash. It pays pretty well, though you have to factor in wear and tear on the car and gasoline costs. In Florida, I’m usually left with about $500 a week to help pay bills after fuel and taxes.

My health is still good, but I’m not sure it’ll last

Driving is one of the things that I can still do fairly well at my age. I’m an excellent driver. I don’t feel comfortable driving at fast speeds anymore, so I let people go around me if they need to.

Every time I go see my primary care physician in Florida, he tells me that I’m very lucky and blessed to have such good health so far. I don’t know if that’s going to last, and I’m definitely overweight.

In Florida, we live in a little town by the beach on the Atlantic Ocean. My brother also owns a place down here. We like to fish as much as we can, but it really depends on the weather. We’ve never stayed a summer in Florida, as it gets really humid.

In the worst-case scenario, we could sell our house

Today, I have a lot of debt. If you consider our house and all of the extended credit, it’s over $250,000.

I get close to $3,000 a month in Social Security. There’s less than $20,000 in my IRA, and I have basically no savings account.

I’m trying to pay down my debt as much as I can. Unfortunately, car repairs interfere with that. I also recently had carpal tunnel surgery on my left hand, and I’ll probably have my right hand done next year. Those charges end up going on the credit card because I don’t have the savings to pay for them.

The fuel bill for driving from Florida to New Hampshire and back usually runs just under $1,000. It’s hard to pay for that and still pay down my debt.

In the worst-case scenario, we have a lot of equity built up in the house, so we could sell it and go back to full-time RV life.

My brother sends job openings that he comes across, and occasionally, I look into some of them. There may come a period in life when we’ll have to stay in Florida all year for health reasons, and I’ll need to find a year-round job.

I don’t see any other way to get around it because winning the Powerball lottery isn’t working.