Continue Without a Seat

On booking a cheap flight

This week, I needed to book a flight within Europe. The budget airline was the cheapest, and by the time I noticed, I had already left Google Flights and was on my way to finishing the booking.

This was the part where you stop thinking about where you’re going and start agreeing to things.

The next screen presented three columns. Each column featured the same man in some state of travel bliss. In one, he is placing a bag into an overhead bin. In another, he walks calmly through a security scanner with his bag in hand. He smiles in all of them, as though these actions had gone exceedingly well for him and would continue to.

The columns were labeled something like Normal, Efficient, and Prepared. Each offered small reassurances of what I would expect in friendly language. I could choose any seat I wanted, “just not the pilot’s.” I could check a bag and “bring ALL the clothes and liquids!” I considered whether any of these three categories described me or who I aspired to be on this flight.

The man looked like he knew where he was going. I imagined being him, flying in a freshly pressed button-down, well-rested, as opposed to boarding before 5:45 am when this flight was due to depart.

Below the columns was a smaller line of text: Continue with Basic.

I clicked it.

A pop-up appeared. The man again, still smiling, loading his bag, with text underneath “Are you sure you don’t want to be Normal?” This made me pause. The phrasing suggested this was not a downgrade but a character flaw.

I hesitated long enough to imagine the people seated around me. What conclusions might they draw from where I put my bag?

I clicked No, I am Basic.

The site then required an account. Guests were not welcome on this budget airline. Thankfully, I already had one. I had done this before.

I hit Next.

I was shown the seat map. I could choose a seat now or be assigned one later. The second option, when clicked, came with a warning that took up most of the page. If I didn’t choose a seat now, I would be assigned one. The assignment would be random. They could not emphasize enough how random this would be.

Another banner appeared: “Most passengers choose their seat. Seats sell out quickly. BEST PRICE NOW.”

I thought again about the person I wanted to be for this two-hour flight. Window meant looking out through the accumulated facial oils of other passengers. Aisle meant stretching my legs just enough to get clipped by the duty-free cart. The middle offered constant armrest vigilance.

None of this felt aspirational.

I clicked Continue without a seat.

Next, I was shown a backpack. Then I was shown the same backpack, now standing beside a suitcase. They were on a background that made them look like they were in a police lineup. Each had heights I was to abide by and maximum weights, which required me to consider the version of myself packing for this trip.

I was warned that bringing a second bag, or a bag that exceeded these limits, would result in a fee at the gate. The fee was described as up to €90 or local currency equivalent, which implied ambiguity, but only in one direction.

I selected one small bag to guarantee future stress. The system accepted it.

Then came the extras.

Did I want Fast Track security? Did I want to purchase a meal? Did I want to offset my trip with tree planting? Did I need a rental car? Had I already thought, before booking this trip, about how I was going to get from the airport to where I was going?

Travel insurance followed, with the stern warning underneath: You can’t put a price on peace of mind.

I declined everything. I did not want peace of mind. I wanted the booking to be finished.

It asked me how I would like to pay. When I said credit card, it happily added the transaction costs to my total.

I clicked Pay.

At the end, the site summarized my decisions. Here was my flight. Here was my seat situation. Here was my bag. Here was the reminder about check-in rules, fees, and what would happen if I forgot.

This was where the site showed me who I had agreed to be.

I would sit anywhere.
I would bring very little.
I would eat later.
I would remember everything.

I would manage. 💺

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