The airline industry is wacky, and that is being generous.
I am planning a trip with my family to Florida. I have been collecting miles from a major airline and haven't cashed in for ten years. Truthfully, I had no idea how many miles I'd amassed. I never paid attention as I was convinced it would be a logistical nightmare to cash in miles. The airline industry is a complicated vortex with no logic to it, so trying to secure seats for essentially a free trip felt like a leap of faith.
I was pleasantly surprised to find I had amassed 110,000 miles. Still unsure of what this meant, I did research and danced a happy jig awash with knowledge that one domestic round trip ticket was only 25,000 miles. Florida suddenly seemed foolish. I had visions of Istanbul, the Croatian coast, or a nice Thai beach. I felt rich with potential! Until, of course, I called the airline.
My customer service friend and I were struggling to understand each other. To her credit, there are three legs to my flight. This is complicated, I know. I would be departing JFK to Orlando, then flying to Atlanta, and finally back to JFK. There would be five day layovers in Orlando and Atlanta. In my mind, and what I foolishly tried to argue, this is essentially a round trip ticket (25,000 miles) from JFK to Orlando with a stop over in Atlanta. I laugh now at my naiveté.
The trip I will take is in December, and not during the Christmas travel rush. I am booking the trip in May. It seems far enough in advance, but my airline pal tells me all seats are taken for each leg of my trip. However, (!), they can secure my seats if I double my miles per leg in what is called their secure blah seating blah double charging blah program thingy. Oh, and since there is a healthy delay at each stop it's not really a round trip ticket, I was standing by my argument, but more of three one-way trips. OK. I nod with eyes glazed over (I was falling into the airline vortex); 100,000 miles total they tell me; OK, I nod sleepily; take them all, I weakly mutter.
An hour later we settle on the flights. I ask my airline pal to hold the reservation and I'll call back the next day to confirm. No problem, they say. I had until midnight to confirm. I call my father who uses his airline miles like coupons; he has a million plus from years of work travel. He tells me 100,000 miles to Florida and back is nuts. I feel reenergized. This is my fuel to fight.
I call back the next day full of vigor. I start nicely asking how it could possibly cost 100,000 miles for domestic travel. I get the run around. I hear more industry mumbo jumbo about doubling the miles per leg because of limited seats. But it's seven months away; how could the seats be filled already? I am in the vortex.
Two hours later I am now on the phone with my fourth customer service pal. This one notices what no one else had noticed. The person the day before didn't hold my reservation but actually made the full booking. If I wanted to make any changes it would cost me $50 per ticket. The changes I wanted to make were to save myself from losing 100,000 miles -- and now it would cost me $100 on top of that? There was lots of arguing. I had reached my breaking point. I can't believe it costs 100,000 miles for two adults to fly to Florida and back, I argue, plus your airline is now trying to charge me for canceling a flight I never asked to be booked?
There is more airline mumbo jumbo talk, some vague apologies, and finally the hilarity hits. She says, with a deadpan voice, "I can cancel your current reservation for free, we'll waive the fee (oh, thanks for that), reimburse you the 100,000 miles, and re-book the flights. I notice we have some first class seats available on two legs of the flight but not the third. The first class seats would be cheaper because its mile plus and not miles select. Would you want to use your miles as miles plus?"
Dumbfounded. I have no response. "Um, first class seats are less miles?"
"Yes, it will be 90,000 miles total with miles plus and you can fly first class."
I feel check-mated. "What a wonderful suggestion," I offer weakly.
I felt like I had been through the wash and spin cycle but I was still standing. In some way they had won, as I can never imagine going through the hassle to use miles again; whatever the cost of a ticket. But thinking of the first class seats and the miles I saved, a marginal victory perhaps, I did another little jig -- but it wasn't quite as enthusiastic as my jig before falling into the airline vortex.