THE FACT OF THE MATTER
BY PAUL HOPKINS
There is something naughty but nice about downing a pint at 5am in the comfortable confines of an airport, as the rest of the world seems to be still sleeping and the pubs don’t open these days until around lunchtime. Or maybe just sipping that pint as you dream of faraway places (at one time a whiskey in my case, but alas, no more). Ah, sure, go on, have another one before the boarding call and you’re flying off to some far-flung destination.
Now Michael O’Leary wants to spoil your sup. Airports should be banned from serving alcohol before early-morning flights, he says, because this would reduce the number of “disruptive” passengers.
The always-controversial boss says Ryanair is being forced to divert “an average of nearly one flight a day” because of bad behaviour on board. In an interview with The Times, he says: “It’s becoming a real challenge for all airlines. I fail to understand why anybody in airport bars is serving people at five or six o’clock in the morning. Who needs to be drinking beer at that time?”
Airside bars are not required to follow restrictions on opening hours, but O’Leary says there should be no alcohol served at airports outside standard licensing hours. On board, he says Ryanair rarely serves more than two drinks to a passenger, and he now calls for a two-drink limit to be introduced at airports, whatever the time of day.
“The ones who are not responsible, the ones who are profiteering off it, are the airports who have these bars open at five or six o’clock in the morning and during delays are quite happy to sell these people as much alcohol as they want, because they know they’re going to export the problem to the airlines,” he says.
Being drunk on a plane is a criminal offence and depending on jurisdiction, can result in large fines and even prison time. Passengers may also be liable for the full cost of diverting a flight, from €10,000 to more than €80,000. In January 2025, Ryanair announced it had started legal action to recover losses against disruptive passengers who had forced a flight to be diverted. It filed legal proceedings against a passenger in Ireland to seek €15,000 in damages related to a flight to Lanzarote.
Now, that’s pertinent. Dare I say it, Ryanair’s passengers on their cheap flights to Spain and the Canaries for their annual fun in the sun, rashers and sausages and Irish tea packed away in their suitcases and their children acting up before their holiday even begins, are likely those who’ll have a drink or three before boarding, and continue to do so while flying — to build up their stamina for the pints in Las Palmas that won’t cost an arm and a leg like back home.
And before anyone starts throwing shapes at my above stereotyping, let me say I have been, in my time, refused alcohol on board. The attendant whispers in my ear: “We believe you are intoxicated.” To which I explain, somewhat slurred, that it is my fear-of-flying medication that has me somewhat off-kilter. With a smile she relents, and there I am 35,000 feet above land with a shaken-not-stirred martini in my hand.
Last time, coming back from New York City having visited my two sons, the youngest pays First Class for me. At the bar at the airport I engage with, as it happens, globally renowned heart surgeon Devi Shetty and his wife, along with bourbon and beer. Alcohol, a little in moderation, is good for the heart, he confides in me — and we promise to keep in touch. Sláinte, I say, and I have had a few too many shots, arguing to myself it’s my fear-of-flying meds.
Eventually, I make it through security, having my hands swabbed for explosives residue because of my Irish accent. “I’m an old guy,” I say to the big, burly security officer. “You could be a member of the Old IRA,” he chuckles, his large, pearly-white teeth beaming at me. He obviously knows his history but I am not amused.
On being welcomed aboard, I ask for a double bourbon – a pre-take-off drink, a privilege of First Class – and then a second, as I tell the attendant: “No dinner please. I just want to sleep.” And I do, like the proverbial log.
And we land in Dublin, just coming up to 5am …
