I’m not a frequent flyer, and I can’t say I’m well-versed
in the arcane secrets of air travel. Until recently I used to trust
a travel agent to fix me up with a reasonably priced airline passage
to my chosen destination. But lately the Internet has beckoned, and
I finally mustered the gumption to investigate the brave new world
of online airline reservations. What I found there has shaken my
already tottering belief in the justice of free-market capitalism,
aside from having shortened my potential lifespan by the equivalent
of about two dozen bacon cheeseburgers with large fries and
milkshakes. Simply stated, I wanted to book a flight from
Philadelphia to San Jose, Costa Rica, for ten days of tropical
adventure, rejuvenation and wild howler monkeys in the company of my
friend Anne D. I went to one of the popular travel websites and
immediately liked the clear, friendly interface. You simply typed
your point of departure and your destination, set the dates,
clicked, and waited a few seconds for the online wizard to do the
rest. Reserving a flight would be as easy as buying the latest Harry
Potter book on Amazon.com.
Well, the first click brought up some sobering data: the cheapest
flight out of Philadelphia would set us back roughly $800 apiece;
for that much money, we could probably enjoy an all-inclusive
package tour of Russia or at least the Czech Republic. I tried
Newark as an alternate point of departure: bad news -- it was even
pricier than Philadelphia, and nobody should pay a premium to fly
out of Newark. Next on my list: New York’s JFK Airport, which
offered a convenient midday flight for just $640.80. I talked it
over with Anne and she approved: JFK it would be. The next day I
went online with the intention of booking that flight, and lo! It
had disappeared from the database like a genie vanishing into its
bottle. The other available flights from JFK upped the ante into the
prohibitive Newark range and beyond, so I resolved to find yet
ANOTHER airport. Baltimore! Of course! Even closer to Philadelphia
than JFK, Baltimore would come to our rescue. And sure enough, it
did: just $513.80 for a 7 a.m. flight, and a still reasonable
$599.80 for a more civilized 1:30 p.m. departure. (I wondered if the
80 cents was for the obligatory bag of honey-roasted peanuts.) I
noted with sardonic amusement that our flight would stop first at
Newark, then go the distance to Costa Rica -- for $200 less than the
flight from Newark alone! Mine was not to reason why; mine was but
to reserve the flight before it vanished into electronic limbo. I
called Anne: we agreed we’d catch the later of the two Baltimore
flights for $599.80; after all, we’d still be saving a bundle
compared to the other airports. God bless Baltimore! Within half an
hour I was back online; I typed Baltimore and San Jose into the
waiting screens, and click! Both the $513 and $599 flights had
mysteriously evaporated; the cheapest now stood at $630.80! Black
smoke slowly billowed from my ears, but I wouldn’t quibble over
$31; I just wanted to book the infernal flight. I called Anne again
to let her know what happened, went immediately back online and
rejoiced to see that the flight was still there. I clicked
"Buy," raced through the onscreen ordering rigmarole and
completed the transaction. Deed accomplished! Now I just had to wait
for the confirmation.
A day later I was surprised to receive a phone call from the
folks at the website; it reassured me to think that some actual
meat-based creatures cared about my travel plans. Reassured me, that
is, until the courteous representative broke the news that my chosen
flight had been SOLD OUT before they could issue the tickets. EXCUSE
ME? But didn't I put a lock on my flight when I reserved it online?
No, the kindly voice explained, an online reservation doesn't become
valid until the tickets are issued, and that could take days. Then
what's the point, I conjectured in an animated tone of voice, of
making an online reservation if it doesn't COUNT? Theoretically this
exercise could go on forever. I could make another reservation right
now, and THAT flight could be sold out before the tickets are
issued. And the next one, and the one after that. It didn't happen
regularly, the voice reassured me... but of course, it had happened
this time, and it happened to ME. I asked the voice to look up the
prices for the remaining flights. The cheapest out of Baltimore now
stood at $668.80. up from $630.80, which had replaced the original
quote of $599.80. We looked at other airports: Philadelphia had shot
up to $828.80 at the impossible hour of 6:15 a.m.; if you wanted to
take off at 1:50 p.m., you'd be poorer by a whopping $1590.80 (and
they still had the audacity to charge you for the peanuts). Newark,
ever upscale, came in at $780.80, though the 6:33 a.m. from JFK now
stood at $673.80, a mere $5 more than Baltimore. With a cynic's sigh
of resignation I took the Baltimore flight -- though the kindly
voice reminded me that, as with online reservations, the flight
wouldn't be locked in until they actually issued the tickets.
Uh-huh. Two days later, I still haven't received confirmation of the
flight, and I'm not holding my breath. Maybe I could book a
freighter at trampsteamer.com.
I wonder what would happen if other businesses operated in the
eccentric manner of airlines. Say you needed to buy an egg-slicer
from your local supermarket. You find a nice one in the housewares
aisle; it slices both crosswise and longitudinally, and it's selling
for $4.99 -- but you can't take it home with you until the
supermarket issues a ticket. You return the next day and find that
the last of the $4.99 egg-slicers is gone. The store offers you a
strictly longitudinal version for $5.49, but no, you want the
original egg-slicer with the two-way action. That slicer will now
cost you $8.99, but again, you have to wait for a ticket to be
issued. The following day, the supermarket calls you with bad news:
as you expected, all the remaining $8.99 egg-slicers are gone.
Enough of this, you fume -- you'll take the longitudinal slicer for
$5.49. Of course, by now the longitudinal version will set you back
$11.99. How about reserving the two-way slicer again and taking your
chances? Now it's going to cost you $16.99 -- unless you can reserve
a flight to Costa Rica and buy it there for $4.99. Ah, but good luck
finding a flight to Costa Rica!
