First, a surprising fact: the car park itself is actually an underground bunker built under the famous Wembley Stadium arch. It’s not a surface lot where you can toss a frisbee; it’s a concrete womb carved out of the earth. You pay a truly royal price—think king’s ransom levels—for the privilege of driving into a cave. And the name? The “Royal Route” is spot-on, because you feel like you need a crown to afford it, or at least a really good credit score.
I followed the signs, which were about as clear as a politician’s promises. One arrow pointed left, and the next one, thirty feet later, pointed right. I did a loop of the entire stadium, waving at the same bewildered security guard three times. By the third wave, he just sighed and pointed vaguely at the ground. I think he was trying to telepathically tell me to give up.
The Unspoken Rules of the Bunker
When you finally find the entrance, it’s like entering a villain’s lair. The ramp is steep enough that you worry your car’s bumper will scrape off. Inside, the lighting is a harsh, unforgiving white, and the ceiling is so low you feel like a giant in a dollhouse. And then there are the spaces. They are drawn for cars that have never eaten a sandwich. My family SUV squeezed in, doors literally brushing the concrete pillars on both sides. I had to exhale to close my own door.
Red Car Park - Building - Wembley, London HA9
Here’s a playful exaggeration that’s almost true: you have to parallel park in a space that was designed by someone who hates fun. A Mini Cooper would feel claustrophobic. A Hummer? Forget it. You’d need a team of tiny elves to guide you in, using toothpicks and interpretive dance. But the surprising fact is, despite the squeeze, you’re exactly 42 steps from the stadium’s VIP entrance. That’s the “Royal” part—proximity over comfort.
