March 5, 2001

The Airline's Mark of the Beast
by Carl S. Ey

Every American loves a bargain. Some Americans love one so much that they are willing to sell their soul to the Internet to save a few bucks. Priceline.com is banking on that point, click and save mentality. The reality is that the savings can potentially cost much more than they save you.

Initially, as the potential traveler negotiates their way through the user-friendly web site, dollar signs glaze their eyeballs. Large savings are around the cyberspace corner as the mouse operator fills the required data fields. Priceline.com is ready to make your dreams of a bargain basement price come true.

Shortly after the user enters the required information such as name, origination, destination, e-mail address and the amount of money the user wants to spend for their flight, a message appears in the user's e-mail in-box. A flight has been located and the user is prompted to click on the link leading them to confirming their flight. "Buy Ticket" is the button that appears on the screen. Boom! The flight is booked and the user feels like a six-year-old that jumps off the high dive for the first time.

A surge of adrenalin that accompanies most "steals" runs through the user's veins. Again, the Internet has made a customer's life easier.  There were no voice recordings, waiting periods of up to six hours, impolite customer service professionals and the word "no" didn't ever show up on the 17-inch monitor. The user picked their destination, their price and was rewarded with a discounted ticket. If only all shopping could be this easy, human interaction could be eliminated as we log into and out of our worlds. However, it is too good to be true.

After receiving confirmation of your ticket, the bargain hunter is hit with the reality that they have just created. The ticket restriction page pops onto the screen and the user realizes that he or she has just painted themselves into a corner. The restrictions are as follows:

a. All tickets will be non-refundable, non-endorsable and non-changeable;
b. All travel will be round-trip with no stopovers or open-jaw travel permitted; and
c. Frequent Flyer mileage and upgrades will not be permitted.

Basically, the traveler is locked into this flight with no hope of refund, change or frequent flyer miles. Customer rights, privileges and courtesies have been forfeited seemingly forever. Rod Serling from the Twilight Zone is now on the screen reciting some version of Aesop's Fables about trying to beat the system.

This reality became part of my life last week as a snowstorm hit the Northern Virginia area and traveling to the airport was as easy as backpacking through the Rockies in bare feet, walking backwards, naked.  Needless to say, I missed my Priceline.com flight and realized that I was on a desert island with a $229 ticket to Las Vegas. Loneliness is a scary place in general but coupled with a $229 Priceline.com ticket to nowhere, it is pure horror.

Each ticket agent at the carrier that Priceline.com booked me on looked at my ticket and uttered the words, "this is a Priceline.com ticket" as if I were a leper. They washed their hands of any support for my plight. To my astonishment, the carrier ignored my frequent flyer account with their carrier and again looked at me as if I had the scarlet letter tattooed on my chin. They sneered at my bargain hunter's dream fare saying, "but this is a Priceline.com ticket."

Immediately, I called Priceline.com's customer service representative.

"Sir, you missed your flight," came the response.

"No, you don't understand, it is snowing in the metro D.C. area, which means that the locals are driving like Neanderthals," I responded. "Traffic is so backed up on the Beltway that the retirees in Florida are leaving the Bingo parlors and skipping the brunch special to beat the rush."

"I can't help you, did you understand that when you book a Priceline.com flight, you give up all rights to customer service, your right to bear arms and voting in any election becomes an occasional privilege instead of a Constitutional right?" said the Priceline.com voice. I expected the voice on the other end of the phone to ask me if my communist party member's annual dues were paid-in-full.

What happened to the customer is always right?

It went out the window when I hit the "buy ticket" button on my monitor that fateful evening.

Fortunately, an airline representative showed mercy on me and put me in a stand-by status for an 8 p.m. flight to Philadelphia connecting to Las Vegas.

"Do you think that you could get me an aisle emergency row seat," I inquired.

"Sir, you're lucky that I don't book you in the toilet with a bungee cord tied to the faucet as a seat belt," she said. "By the way, you have to help pass out the peanuts and cocktails. Remember the fat guy in first class gets two olives in his Shirley Temple."

Finally, after delays in both Baltimore and Philly, I reached Las Vegas five hours after my original arrival time. Quickly, I rushed off to gain my fortune at the Blackjack tables. Lady Luck was whispering in my ear and I wanted to stay a few extra days.

"Do you think that I could change my flight departure time?" I asked.

"Sir, this is a Priceline.com flight," came the all-to-familiar snicker. "I can't help you, did you understand that when you book a Priceline.com flight, you give up all rights to customer service, your right to bear arms..."

The mark of the beast was at it again and today, I am back in Northern Virginia deleting the Priceline.com web page from my list of favorites.

© 2001 Carl S. Ey

Join the Debate!
Click here to enter the discussion!