Natalie S.
Yelp
Upon entering the Aviator Hotel, there is a "stairway to heaven", a backlit cloud-like exaggeration of airstairs. A bit of imagination and you could be boarding a private luxury jet, until you reach the reception desk. Everything is upholstered in rich jewel tones, and the portholes and leather in the elevator were "aviation-chic." The staff is as friendly, responsive and starched as cabin crew, and the bar is lively with suited people in transit. Yet, the food was the quality of in-air meals served on an average Cross-Atlantic Boeing 747 flight.
I started having problems when I went in search of my room. The hotel has galley type wooden fire doors placed at quite close intervals. Push through one swinging door and you encounter another and again and again until I was unsure if I wasn't caught up in a dream sequence from Inception. I remember making a mental note to take it easy at the bar in the evening.
Once I finally found my room, I encountered the phantom shower head. There were two knobs in the shower, and I turned the wrong knob. Out of the ceiling poured torrential rain directly on top of my head - cold rain, very cold. I was only saved by my feline ninja reflexes. My colleagues, who were also staying at the hotel, reported similar mishaps with their showers.
Having conquered the shower, I was pleased with the rest of the accommodations. I hadn't been placed in economy class. I had a window with a view out onto a small, local air field - thus the name and theme of the hotel. The bed was big (I'm sure the thread count was high) and the pillows were firm and hotel stiff, which I particularly like. I had a small sofa built into the wall under the window and large mirrors.
For dinner that night, we (my colleagues and I) were hosted, served and entertained by hotel staff. I'm going to say first that I was really excited about this dinner. The menu had been written with an explicative Frenchy style, which automatically induced me to imagine artistic, exquisite food. Things like Black Sea Bass served with red wine au jus and cyfron purée on a bed of foie gra pate a la sauvignon buree petite and so on. I vaguely understood that I would be served a soup, fish and a selection of cheese. Now, my expectations were high, so when I got the food, which I'm sure was prepared with the best intentions, I was so disappointed. The service was excellent, but the food was sad. Sad like ravioli microwaved in a card board box on an airplane.
The soup was tasteless, and my wrist got tired from shaking copious amounts of salt and pepper into that Butternut Squash Puree ala Britainique. The Blackened Sea Bass with Cyfron Puree (I don't know what this was - it was like a potato but it wasn't a potato and it had some name like "cyfron") Au Jus Red Wine was subtle and savory but very lonely on the plate. The fish's skin was crunchy and the meat delicate, but it swam in death as it did in life, except in death it swam in a pool of vinegary sauce. The cheese was fine, but nothing to write home about. There was nothing French about the cheese. I was hungry before, during and after.
Breakfast the next morning was a bit better, but again rather bland. Typical British fare - beans, floppy bacon, eggs and HP sauce. Perhaps British cuisine is underwhelming in general. I didn't have much of a chance to find out as I supplemented the hotel meals with sandwiches from Sainsbury's for the whole trip.
Near the end of our business dinner, two of the waitress staged a fight. One of them was screaming at the other that she had "stolen her man." It wasn't clear if they were actually fighting or not and everyone got very quiet. I suspected something was up because it was highly theatrical. In the end it was a part of a rather cheesy performance where the waitresses sang and danced to three or four songs. I suppose it was somewhat novel and amusing, and I commend the energy, enthusiasm and vocal styling of the two girls, but two songs would have sufficed. Of course they tried to make us dance. I got out of it by talking to the "DJ" who was just a kid playing music from a pre-set iTunes list with old, old kitschy songs.
After dinner, a quick visit to the bar was in order. The hotel bar seemed to be the only real place in the vicinity of the hotel itself to take leisure. It was set up like a lounge and was staffed by boys in suspenders and slicked back hair, which gave it a sort of 1920's lounge finesse. It took forever to get drinks. I had one and went to bed as I was quite satisfied with the wine service during the dinner anyway.
So besides the phantom shower, the airplane quality food and the strange dinner entertainment, the aviation themed Aviator hotel was a rather pleasant place to layover if you ever have to stay in this small town outside of London.
