Daniel Lichtblau is forced to cancel his flight to Italy because of a painful hip condition. He provides ITA Airways with medical documentation, but it refuses a full refund and won’t clearly explain what additional information it needs. How could a routine medical refund turn into such a frustrating puzzle?

Question

I booked two ITA Airways tickets for travel from Chicago to Turin, Italy, four months ago. Shortly after I made my reservation, I learned I could not travel due to primary osteoarthritis in my right hip. 

I submitted a medical certificate from my orthopedic surgeon covering the travel dates and requested a refund for my ticket and a date change for my wife’s ticket. ITA initially confirmed it received the documentation, but later denied my refund, claiming the certificate lacked a “prognosis” covering the travel dates. 

ITA wouldn’t specify what additional information was required, and phone support couldn’t connect me to anyone who could resolve the issue. How can I get ITA to honor the refund or allow the ticket transfer as its customer service promised? — Daniel Lichtblau, Champaign, Ill.

Answer

Ouch! I’m sorry to hear about your hip diagnosis. Primary osteoarthritis can cause significant pain and reduce mobility, and it’s completely understandable that a long transatlantic flight would be impossible for you. 

You acted responsibly by obtaining medical documentation and promptly submitting it to ITA Airways. Refunds are never guaranteed when you have a medical condition, but if an ITA representative asked you for the medical paperwork, chances are you met all the criteria.

The difficulty here stems from ITA’s specific requirements for medical refunds. It wants a certificate that not only lists a diagnosis but also includes a prognosis specifying the exact dates you are unable to travel. While your original note did indicate your inability to fly, ITA insisted it didn’t meet its definition of “prognosis.” This can feel frustrating, especially when you’ve done everything correctly.

To resolve this, request a revised letter from your surgeon explicitly stating the period during which you were unfit to fly — from the date of diagnosis through your expected recovery. Make sure it is on official letterhead, signed, and clearly lists the start and end dates. Keep a detailed paper trail of all correspondence, including emails, call logs, and written confirmations.

Under U.S. and state consumer protection laws, airlines must provide accurate guidance about their refund requirements. While your ticket is technically nonrefundable, ITA, like other airlines that promise medical exceptions, must give you a fair chance to meet its criteria. If internal appeals fail, you can file complaints with the U.S. Department of Transportation or your state attorney general’s consumer protection office to ensure the airline adheres to its policies.

Alternatively, you can appeal your case to someone higher up at ITA. I list the names, numbers and email addresses of key ITA customer service executives on my consumer advocacy site, Elliott.org.

After my advocacy team contacted ITA Airways on your behalf, it processed a refund for one of your tickets. Unfortunately, ITA declined to give your wife a credit or allow a transfer of her ticket. Your case shows that persistence, clear documentation, and advocacy can make a real difference — even when an airline mishandles a medical refund request.

John Christensen’s vacation to New Zealand should have been the trip of a lifetime. Instead, it turned into a medical nightmare, and then a travel insurance nightmare.

Christensen developed Deep Vein Thrombosis (DVT) after flying from Albuquerque, N.M., to Auckland. DVT is a painful and potentially deadly condition where a blood clot forms in a deep vein, typically in the legs.

He spent three days in the hospital, racked up $3,867 in medical bills, and missed a tour he’d already paid for. Then came the hard part: getting his travel insurance company to reimburse him. 

He filed a claim with his travel insurance company, Allianz Global Assistance, and waited. And waited. And waited.

Five months later, Christensen was still waiting. Allianz kept asking him to send documents he’d already submitted.

“I am beginning to believe Allianz is incompetent!,” Christensen finally said in exasperation. 

His case raises several important questions:

• How long should a travel insurance claim reasonably take to process?
• What should you do when your travel insurance company keeps requesting documents you’ve already submitted?
• What are your rights when a travel insurer delays payment without explanation?

First, let’s take a look at how Christensen ended up in this document loop.

When your vacation takes a dangerous turn

Christensen bought travel insurance for his New Zealand trip, which was a smart move. Travel insurance exists precisely for those moments when your carefully planned vacation goes sideways.

Shortly after landing in Auckland, Christensen was diagnosed with DVT, which can develop on long flights like the one from Los Angeles to Auckland. A blood clot that typically forms in the legs can be life-threatening if it travels to the lungs. He spent three days in the hospital. 

You pay your premium, you get sick or injured abroad, the insurer covers your medical expenses, right?

Not always.

Christensen submitted his claim to Allianz barely two weeks after leaving the hospital. He included all his medical receipts, documentation of his hospitalization, and proof of payment. Everything appeared in order.

Then the waiting began.

A month later, Allianz sent Christensen an automated email requesting “an explanation of benefits or denial of coverage from your primary and/or supplemental health insurer.” 

Fair enough. Insurance companies often want to know if your primary health insurance will cover any portion of the claim first. Christensen provided it.

Two days later, Allianz confirmed receipt of his documents. “A team member has been notified and will contact you if anything else is needed,” the email promised.

Weeks passed. Then months.

The document loop tightens

Two months later, Christensen was getting antsy. He’d paid thousands of dollars out of pocket for emergency medical care, and his insurer had gone radio silent.

So he emailed Allianz customer service: “What is the status of this claim?”

A representative responded, telling him he had the wrong department. So he reached out again. This time, he received an automated response promising that “a member of our claims team will respond to you within one to two business days.”

Nobody followed up.

Nearly four months after filing his claim, Christensen sent another email.

The next day, Allianz confirmed receipt. Again. “A team member has been notified,” the email said.

A few days later, Christensen checked his claim status online and discovered something infuriating: The claim had been moved back to “more information needed.”

More information? He’d sent everything multiple times.

So he sent all the information again.

 “Five months have passed,” he finally wrote to Allianz. “That is terrible customer service.”

What should you do when your insurer keeps asking for the same documents?

If you’re stuck in a document loop, you’re not alone. It’s one of the most common, and most maddening, problems I see with travel insurance claims.

Here’s your action plan:

Understand what’s happening behind the scenes 

Insurance companies process thousands of claims, and documents get misfiled all the time. Claims get assigned to multiple adjusters who don’t always communicate with each other. Your paperwork might be sitting in someone’s inbox while another department keeps sending automated requests for it.

Document everything meticulously

Remember to keep copies of every email and document you submit, and every confirmation you receive. When Christensen sent his paperwork, he received a confirmation email the next day. That confirmation became crucial evidence that Allianz had received his documents.

Create a paper trail with timestamps

Email is your friend here. When you resubmit documents, reference the previous submission in your message. That’s what Christensen did, and it really helped his case. If you must call to follow up, write down the date and time of your call, and get the name of the representative.

Escalate your case strategically

If you’ve submitted the same documents three times and you’re still getting requests for them, it’s time to move up the food chain. Ask to speak with a supervisor. Request the contact information for the claims department manager, or use our executive contacts for Allianz.

Set a deadline

After your third submission, send an email that says something like: “I’ve now submitted these documents three times, most recently on [date]. Please confirm receipt and provide a timeline for claim resolution within five business days, or provide a detailed explanation of what additional information you require.” You may also want to suggest that you have other options, including …

Contact your state insurance commissioner

Every U.S. state has an insurance regulator who handles consumer complaints. If your insurer continues to request documents you’ve already provided, file a complaint. Insurance companies hate these complaints because too many can trigger regulatory scrutiny.

Bottom line: Don’t let an insurance company’s bureaucratic maze intimidate you into giving up. You have rights. If the insurer has received your documents, it has an obligation to either process your claim or provide a specific, detailed explanation of what’s missing.

In Christensen’s case, Allianz didn’t provide that explanation. The company just kept asking for documents, over and over. 

Which brings us to the next question: How long is too long?

How long should a travel insurance claim take to process?

The short answer: Most travel insurance claims should be processed within 30 days.

The longer answer: It depends on the complexity of the claim, whether you’ve submitted all required documentation, and, let’s be honest, how competent your insurance company is.

• Most travel insurance policies don’t specify an exact timeframe for claim processing, but state insurance regulations often do.

• Many states require insurers to acknowledge receipt of a claim within a specific timeframe (often 15 days).

• The company must approve or deny it within 30 to 45 days of receiving all necessary documentation.

• The key phrase: “all necessary documentation.”

That’s where things get sticky. Insurance companies can extend the processing time indefinitely by claiming they don’t have everything they need. But here’s what they’re supposed to do: When they need additional documentation, they should tell you specifically what they need, why they need it, and by when you need to provide it.

Allianz just kept sending generic requests for documents he’d already submitted, without explaining what was missing or why.

What are your rights when a travel insurer delays payment?

You have more rights than you might think. And insurance companies are required to follow specific rules when handling claims.

• Right to timely claim processing. State insurance regulations typically require insurers to acknowledge your claim within 10 to 15 business days. They must approve or deny it within 30 to 45 days of receiving complete documentation.

• Right to a clear explanation of a denial. If your insurer denies your claim or requests additional information, it must tell you specifically what’s missing and why. Form letters and automated emails that say “we need more information” without identifying what information doesn’t cut it.

• Right to appeal. If your claim is denied, you can challenge that decision. Most insurance policies outline an internal appeals process. (If that fails, you can file a complaint with your state insurance commissioner.)

You may have other rights, depending on your state. That could include the right to interest on delayed payments and a right to damages. Of course, you always have the right to contact your state insurance commissioner to file a complaint.

Christensen did all of those things. He kept meticulous records. He followed up persistently. He called. He emailed. He resubmitted documents. He did everything a reasonable consumer should do.

But after five months, even the most patient consumer reaches a breaking point. That’s when he contacted my advocacy team.

Will we get a resolution?

My team reviewed Christensen’s case. We looked at his email correspondence with Allianz. We saw the confirmation that his documents had been received. We saw the phone call where a representative told him the documents were in his file. We saw the frustrating cycle of submissions and generic responses.

Our advocate Dwayne Coward reached out to Allianz to find out the status of Christensen’s claim. 

A week later, Allianz contacted us. It reviewed his case and approved his claim. 

“Mr. Christensen should receive his payment shortly,” a representative said.

Total approved: $3,867, the full amount of Christensen’s bill.

What’s the takeaway?

Christensen’s experience is not unusual. Travel insurance claim delays happen all the time, and consumers often feel powerless to do anything about them.

But here’s what bothers me: Allianz had all of Christensen’s documentation. The company confirmed receipt multiple times. There was no legitimate reason for a five-month delay on a straightforward medical claim.

Was someone at Allianz deliberately stalling? Probably not. More likely, Christensen’s file got stuck in the system. His emails generated automated responses. His documents sat in someone’s inbox, unreviewed. And without someone with influence applying pressure, nothing happened.

Christensen shouldn’t have needed my advocacy team’s help. He shouldn’t have had to wait five months. And he definitely shouldn’t have been stuck in a document loop, repeatedly sending the same paperwork to a company that kept insisting it needed more information.

Your travel insurance company has an obligation to process your claim promptly and fairly. Hold it to that standard.

When Sharon von Wolffersdorff booked a flight from Seattle to Rome, she considered ignoring the experts’ advice.

The experts — in her case, her airline and airport — assured her that she could make a flight connection in Frankfurt in an hour. But she was skeptical.

“I experienced a nerve-wracking transfer in Paris a few years ago,” says von Wolffersdorff, a retired Spanish teacher from Seattle. “We didn’t want to do that again.”

She’s one of many travelers who are questioning recommendations from the pros. Travelers have always been contrarians, but never like this. And their timing, just before a summer market by uncertainty, couldn’t be worse.

“We’re in an age where skepticism is the default setting,” says psychologist Frank Niles. “So when a professional says, ‘Don’t go there’ or ‘Do it this way,’ some travelers instinctively do the opposite.”

So why are travelers being more skeptical? When should you be contrarian — and when shouldn’t you? And what is the biggest mistake the skeptics are making when they travel?

Whose advice are travelers ignoring?

There’s a reason travelers are distrustful: The experts are getting it wrong too often.

“I’m always disappointed when I listen to travel experts,” says Stephanie Ward, a marketing executive from Dallas. “They give you the tourist experience, which is usually subpar and more expensive.”

Who’s on the “ignore” list?

• Travel agents who care more about collecting commissions than helping a customer.

• Travel influencers who are getting paid by a destination or hotel to say positive things.

• Travel bloggers who endorse points-earning credit cards and then take a generous kickback from the credit card company while offering misleading advice. 

Travelers say they’re done listening to the nonsense they’ve been fed.

“The decision to not take advice comes from being burned in the past,” explains Alex Beene, a frequent traveler in Nashville who works for the state government. “I’ve listened to glowing feedback on hotels that were costly, only to discover when I got there it didn’t feel worth the hefty price I was paying.”

When should you be a skeptic?

A little skepticism is always healthy. (Except for this column, of course. Every word I write is completely true.) 

One big mistake travelers make is assuming everything online is worth knowing.

“The top things that come up to do in a foreign city on Google are all part of a tourism engine,” says Aaron Nichols, a research specialist in Longmont, Colo., who spent years traveling around the world. “There’s a lot of people who have invested a lot of time in making sure that your attention is directed to those things.”

You’ll even want to put on your contrarian hat when you find information that appears to be helpful. 

Just because it’s the first search result, or the source declares itself to be an “expert” or “thought leader,” doesn’t make it true. Dig deeper. Your expert source might be manipulating the search engine results or enriching themselves from poorly disclosed affiliate arrangements, so it’s probably best to look elsewhere for people you trust.

And you’ll want to listen to yourself when your instincts set off warning flares. “Trust your instinct,” says Ron Podmore, a teacher from Seattle who travels extensively. If something is making you nervous, chances are there’s a good reason behind it. Doing the opposite of what your instincts tell you may put you in danger. This step is especially important when you’re planning a trip. When you hear a little voice in your head that says, “I don’t like it,” you should listen.

When should you not be a skeptic?

While there are times that healthy skepticism is essential, there are absolutely times when you should listen to the right experts.

When it comes to safety. Dan Richards, CEO of Global Rescue, a security membership organization, says you don’t want to be a contrarian when it comes to your personal safety. Listen to the pros. Heed the advice of the U.S. State Department. Yet too many travelers are doing the opposite. His latest survey of travelers shows 85 percent of travelers are concerned about geopolitical instability. “Yet they’re proceeding with their plans despite the risks,” he says. That might not end well. (Related: Can you trust those government travel advisories? Maybe not — and here’s why.)

If it’s time-tested or official advice. If your destination has visa requirements, or if there are official warnings about safety there, don’t ignore them. “You risk serious trouble,” says Liam Perkins, a marketing executive from Los Angeles who travels frequently. His pet peeve: Contrarians who ignore etiquette advice and end up doing something offensive. Don’t dismiss those tips; you’ll just end up embarrassing yourself.

In other words, there are some occasions when you don’t want to ignore the expert advice. So when should you be skeptical?

Travelers should be cautiously skeptical

Ignoring the advice of professionals isn’t necessarily a bad trend. It’s only bad when you take it too far.

Cai Glushak, the chief medical officer for AXA Partners US, sees all kinds of travelers who contract serious diseases and traumatic injuries in risky locations. “These circumstances were easily avoidable by following government advisories,” he adds.

At the same time, hundreds of thousands of travelers would have been better served if they’d ignored the advice promoted by internet search engines and points-bloggers last summer, and selected a destination that was off the beaten path or less expensive. Or chose a different flight with a more lengthy layover.

That’s what von Wolffersdorff, the Spanish teacher, is doing. 

“We’re definitely looking for a longer connection,” she says.

She’s right. A few years ago, I had a flight from Lisbon to Doha through Frankfurt. I was worried about the 1 ½ hour connection time, but my airline told me I’d be fine. My flight arrived on time, but I spent almost 45 minutes waiting in an immigration line. I arrived at my gate just as they were closing the door to the flight, and I had to wait for the next one.

So as you start planning your holiday trip, the best expert advice is to be cautiously skeptical. I’ve shown you how to find the good advice, but the rest is up to you.                                                                                                       

Tens of thousands of Spirit Airlines passengers showed up at the airport this week and discovered their tickets were worthless. 

They could have scrambled for a last-minute fare on another airline, sometimes at three or four times the original price. They could have disputed the charge with a credit card company. But all too often, they just canceled their trip.

The worst may be ahead. JetBlue is reportedly in financial distress. Several ultralow-cost carriers—the no-frills airlines like Frontier, Allegiant and Avelo that built their model around bare-bones fares and piled-on fees—have lined up at the federal aid window. 

There will be more Spirits, and probably soon.

I know because my inbox tells me so. Hundreds of emails, all variations on the same theme: I bought a ticket on a low-cost airline, and I’m really worried. 

There has to be a better way.

What happened to Rule 240?

If you flew before the government deregulated the airline industry in 1978, you might remember Rule 240. The Civil Aeronautics Board required airlines to put bumped or stranded passengers on the next available flight, including a competitor’s, at no extra cost. 

Then deregulation arrived, and Rule 240 quietly disappeared. Air travelers were at the mercy of an airline when a bankruptcy happened. Sometimes, that left them with a worthless ticket. 

Congress brought a version of it back after 9/11. Section 145 of the Aviation and Transportation Security Act required carriers to honor a failed competitor’s tickets “to the extent practicable.” But it was also temporary, and it expired in 2005.

Now, there’s no protection at a time when we need it most.

A credit card chargeback isn’t the answer

The airline industry’s standard response is to point at the Fair Credit Billing Act and to file a chargeback. 

Not really. A refund—if you can get it—won’t help you get to your destination. And walk-up fares, which are priced for business travelers on an expense account, are beyond the reach of most travelers.

Your bank can’t fix a systemic aviation failure any more than it can revive Spirit Airlines or any of its ailing competitors. But thoughtful government policy can.

Can the Department of Transportation fix this?

To its credit, the Department of Transportation (DOT) issued Order 2026-5-1 within days of Spirit’s shutdown. The order encourages other airlines to offer reduced rescue fares to displaced Spirit passengers. Some carriers stepped up, but others didn’t.

Here’s the catch: The DOT can only encourage. It can’t compel. Its authority to mandate ticket honoring evaporated when Section 145 sunsetted. So we’re back to voluntary cooperation, a phrase that, in airline industry context, means “we’ll do this if our revenue managers say it’s OK.”

Every time another carrier goes under, hundreds of thousands of Americans will discover what their tickets are actually worth, which is whatever the remaining airlines decide.

Here’s what a consumer protection rule would look like

I’d start simple. Reinstate Section 145 with three updates.

• First, make it permanent. The cycle of airline failures isn’t going away, and neither should the law that protects passengers from it.
  
• Define “to the extent practicable” with actual standards. A capped rescue fare—say, 150 percent of the original ticket price, with the difference recoverable from the failed carrier’s bankruptcy estate. An honor period of at least 14 days. Available seats on competing routes on a space-available basis within 72 hours.
  
• Then give the DOT enforcement teeth: Civil penalties for carriers that refuse without good cause and a fast-track complaint process for stranded passengers.

Will the airline lobby fight this? Of course. The legal environment has rarely been more hostile to consumer protections in general, but particularly in aviation. Airlines for America just won a major court case vacating the DOT’s junk-fee disclosure rule. 

That puts this in the hands of Congress, which could solve this problem with legislation that protects American air travelers.

Wait, can you force a private business to help?

Actually, there’s a precedent for this type of federal mandate. 

U.S. airlines operate on public infrastructure that taxpayers build and maintain. The Federal Aviation Administration runs the air traffic control system that keeps air travel safe. Its budget for fiscal 2025 is roughly $21 billion, paid for largely by the Airport and Airway Trust Fund and topped up by the general taxpayer fund. 

Commercial airports in the U.S. are almost entirely owned and operated by state and local governments. The Airport Improvement Program steers billions more in federal grants to airports each year. The Essential Air Service program props up routes that wouldn’t otherwise exist, paying carriers as much as $650 per passenger to keep small communities connected.

Without taxpayers, there is no airline industry. 

And the public has a long tradition of attaching strings when private companies use public resources. Railroads got the right to lay track across the country. In return, the Interstate Commerce Act of 1887 made them common carriers, legally obligated to serve all customers on reasonable terms. 

Telephone companies got rights of way to string wires across public land. The Communications Act of 1934 made them common carriers too. Even today’s interstate oil and gas pipelines carry common-carrier obligations, ensuring producers can ship without being frozen out.

If you build your business on top of a public good, the public gets a say in how you run it.

After 9/11, airlines accepted $5 billion in direct grants and $10 billion in loan guarantees. After COVID-19, they took more than $50 billion through the Payroll Support Program. In return, they agreed to maintain service, cap executive pay, and eventually drop change fees on most tickets. None of those concessions destroyed the industry. Most are still in place.

Asking airlines to honor a failed competitor’s tickets at a capped price is the cost of running a business on the public’s runway.

The U.S. and Iran are reportedly close to a deal that would end the war, lift sanctions, release billions in frozen Iranian funds, and reopen the Strait of Hormuz. 

Is that your cue to book your summer vacation?

It might be. But as always, the truth is complicated.

The travel industry is already damaged. Airbnb said this week that cancellations across Europe, the Middle East, Africa, and Asia Pacific are running higher than usual, and it expects second-quarter bookings to drop by about a full percentage point. Booking Holdings, which owns Booking.com, Priceline, Agoda, and Kayak, cut its full-year revenue forecast and now expects soft demand to drag on through June. Hilton has flagged occupancy pressure in the Middle East, too.

The diplomats may be circling a deal, but nothing is signed. Iranian lawmakers have called the U.S. proposal a “wish list.” The White House itself isn’t sure Tehran’s leadership can agree internally. 

Meanwhile, the companies selling you a summer trip insist the worst is already priced in. It’s a familiar pitch, but it also assumes nothing else goes wrong. And during crazy times like this, that’s a big assumption to make.

Here’s your pre-booking checklist for summer

Before you put down a deposit, here’s a list to consider:

1. Check the State Department advisory for your destination. Level 3 (“reconsider travel”) and Level 4 (“do not travel”) are red flags. They affect your insurance coverage, too.
2. Look at your route, not just your destination. Any flight that overflies the eastern Mediterranean could be affected. Airspace closures change weekly.
3. Watch fuel prices over the last 30 days. Jet fuel tracks crude, and crude tracks the Strait of Hormuz. If oil is climbing, expect more fare hikes, fuel surcharges, and capacity cuts.
4. Read the cancellation policy out loud. “Free cancellation” usually means up to a date, after which you owe everything. Note the date.
5. Consider travel insurance with a “cancel for any reason” upgrade. Standard policies don’t cover a change of heart when the news gets scary. CFAR does, at about 50 to 75 reimbursement of your prepaid, nonrefundable expenses. (Related: Do I need travel insurance for my summer vacation?)
6. Pay with a credit card. Debit cards and bank transfers are off the table. Yes, even if they offer you a discount. It’s just not worth it. If the airline collapses or the tour operator vanishes, the card’s chargeback protection is the only thing standing between you and a total loss.
7. Have a Plan B and a Plan C. Be sure to have a refundable backup destination, a date you’ll pull the trigger on canceling, and the phone number of a human travel agent who can rebook you in an hour.

If you can’t check off all seven, you’re not ready to book. 

Which brings us to today’s question.

And a few follow-up questions:

If you voted yes:

• What’s giving you confidence: the peace talks, your insurance, or the price?
• Did you purchase insurance? Was it “cancel for any reason” coverage, or are you trusting the standard policy?
• What would change your mind between now and departure?

If you said no:

• Is it safety, money, or something else?
• What would have to happen — a signed deal, lower fuel, a specific advisory lifted — before you’d reconsider?
• Are you booking domestic instead, or skipping a trip altogether?

My take: “The worst is priced in” is something an airline says right before the price goes up.

The deal isn’t done. The Strait of Hormuz is partially open one day and contested the next. Booking.com, the biggest online travel agency on the planet, just told Wall Street it expects this to drag on through June at minimum. That isn’t a green light.

It also isn’t a stop sign. It means you have to travel like an adult. Read the cancellation policy. Buy the “cancel for any reason” rider. Pay with a credit card. Pick a destination where the worst case is a delayed flight, not an evacuation.

And ignore anyone, especially a chief executive on an earnings call, who tells you the damage is done. The damage is done when the war ends, the sanctions are lifted, the ships sail, and the fuel surcharges come off. And we’re not there—yet. 

Your turn

Are you booking, holding off, or canceling a trip you already paid for? Tell me in the comments.

Jorrit Muller says his flight from Puerto Vallarta to Orlando fit his schedule perfectly. He had to be at a wedding early in the day, and flight 335 left in the early afternoon.

But it wasn’t perfect for Aeromexico. Three months before his departure, it changed its flight to one that left an hour earlier, during the reception.

“Had I known they would do that, I wouldn’t have booked that itinerary,” he says.

Here’s where things get frustrating: The airline made Muller an offer, but then walked it back, sent him chasing a refund, and then denied that, too. He’s out $700 and has nowhere left to turn except our advocacy team. 

Before I get involved, I want to know what you think. Should I take the case?

The offer that disappeared

Aeromexico’s notification told Muller that if the new flight did not work, he could move to another flight at no additional cost. 

So he tried. Through Aeromexico’s WhatsApp support channel, he asked for a later flight showing as available on the airline’s own website. That didn’t work because the flights he wanted were operated by Delta, even though they were displayed as bookable on Aeromexico’s site. (Related: A missed connection and a $300 bill — did Aeromexico offer him enough compensation?)

An agent then suggested he request a refund instead.

“Relying on that advice, and because the earlier reassigned flight was not workable, I purchased replacement flights operated by Delta at our own expense, expecting Aeromexico to refund the unused ticket,” Muller says.

Then, unbelievably, Aeromexico refused to honor the agent’s verbal promise. A representative told him that because the airline had offered a replacement flight, it didn’t have to refund him.

Muller filed a U.S. Department of Transportation complaint. The airline’s response to the DOT echoed the same point: A seat was available. It was a minor schedule change. End of story.

What the rules say

Under DOT rules, an airline must offer a refund when it makes a “significant change” to a flight. For international travel, that generally means a schedule change of six hours or more. Aeromexico’s change here was just one hour, which does not meet the federal threshold. By the letter of the rule, Aeromexico wasn’t required to refund Muller’s ticket.

And what about Mexican law? The country’s consumer protection agency is Profeco, and it enforces the civil aviation law. That legislation requires a carrier to compensate passengers for a flight delay, but those rules focus mostly on a day-of-departure problem. 

A delay of one to two hours might earn a traveler a small voucher. But an advance schedule change of just one hour doesn’t automatically trigger a full refund under Mexican regulations. So even if we look south of the border for a legal remedy, Aeromexico is likely off the hook for a mandatory refund based purely on the time shift. 

Profeco would probably view this case exactly the way the Transportation Department did—as a minor adjustment that doesn’t warrant a refund.

What Muller says

Muller’s argument is not really about the one-hour shift. It is about what the airline told him when he tried to reschedule.

He said the distinction between a cancellation and a schedule change was never communicated to him. When he looked up his original itinerary, the booking he had purchased no longer existed as an option. From his perspective, the flight had effectively been canceled.

“Even if Aeromexico now wants to describe it as a schedule change rather than a cancellation, the practical outcome was the same for us,” he said. “The itinerary we purchased no longer worked.”

He kept circling back to the same point: Aeromexico made an offer, and then wouldn’t honor it.

“The biggest issue for us is that Aeromexico expressly told us that if the new flight did not suit us, we would be able to choose an alternative flight free of charge. We relied on that,” he said.

When Muller tried to use the offer, he said no workable alternatives were available, even though later flights showed up as bookable on Aeromexico’s website. The agent then directed him to request a refund. He did, and Aeromexico denied it.

Muller said the airline’s response to the DOT did not engage with the most important part of the dispute, which was that Aeromexico did not stand behind its own offer of a free alternative flight, and that its own support agent told him to request a refund.

The advocacy team’s view

Our advocates looked at the case. Advocate Dwayne Coward noted that flight 335 was not canceled, but experienced a schedule change, which resulted in there not being enough time to meet his connecting flight. That would not trigger a refund obligation under federal rules. Aeromexico’s response to the DOT was consistent with that reading.

That’s a fair read of the regulations. But it does not address what an Aeromexico agent told a customer in writing on WhatsApp.

Honestly, this is a borderline case

The schedule change itself is not the strong part of Muller’s case. If that were all he had, this case would not be winnable.

The stronger argument is the one Muller keeps coming back to: An airline representative told him, in a documented chat exchange, to request a refund. 

That’s the kind of detail that can move a case from “the rules say no” to “the airline said yes.” Whether Aeromexico’s WhatsApp record actually supports that account is something I would need to see before getting involved.

There’s also the code-share wrinkle. Muller said the later flights he wanted were displayed on Aeromexico’s website as bookable, but the airline refused to put him on them because Delta operated them. 

If a carrier sells a code-share seat, that carrier’s rules should apply to the entire ticket. Telling a passenger that an Aeromexico-displayed flight is suddenly off-limits because Delta operates it is a finger-point of the kind that usually does not survive scrutiny.

Muller has done all he can. He has filed a DOT complaint, he has a credible paper trail, and as he put it in his last note to us, he tried to do the right thing and resolve it directly with the airline, but kept going in circles.

Should I take the case?

Here’s where I need you to weigh in:

Is a written instruction from an airline agent enough to override the DOT’s “significant change” threshold? Should an airline be held to what its representative tells a customer to do, even when the underlying schedule change does not legally require a refund? 

Or is Aeromexico right that the seat was available, the rule is the rule, and Muller chose to walk away?

When Howard Friedman’s new refrigerator stops cooling, he expects a simple replacement. After all, he had bought it from Walmart, one of the world’s largest retailers. Instead, there’s a confusing chain of calls, emails, and return labels — and a surprising suggestion that he should “just donate” the appliance to charity. How can he resolve this mess?

Question

I bought a beverage refrigerator from Walmart a month ago. The first unit didn’t get cold, and when I called Walmart, the representative said that others had the same problem and arranged a return. He also suggested I buy a replacement refrigerator from Walmart, which I did.

The second one came from a company called Ca’Lefort. It didn’t work, either. When I tried to return it, a representative first agreed to take it back and scheduled a FedEx pickup. The item was picked up — and then returned to my porch a few days later.

A different Ca’Lefort representative told me that the first representative had made a mistake and that I couldn’t return the refrigerator because it wasn’t in the original box. She offered me 50 percent off a replacement. I refused.

When I called Walmart again, a representative said I’d get a full refund and should donate the fridge to charity. But the refund never showed up. 

After several more calls and hours on hold, a Walmart representative apologized for all the “mistakes” and said Walmart couldn’t take the refrigerator back. Then the call dropped. Can you help me get a refund for the refrigerator? — Howard Friedman, Baltimore

Answer

Your story captures one of the biggest problems with big-box stores. You might think you’re buying from Walmart, but some of its products come from third-party sellers that operate under their own policies. Those sellers — in this case, Ca’Lefort — can make or break your customer experience.

When a retailer facilitates the sale, it also assumes a degree of responsibility under federal consumer law. The Federal Trade Commission’s Mail, Internet, or Telephone Order Merchandise Rule requires sellers to deliver merchandise as promised or issue a prompt refund when a product is defective or undelivered. And under the Magnuson-Moss Warranty Act, sellers who advertise warranties must honor them or provide clear instructions on how consumers can obtain service or a refund. Those protections apply even when the sale involves a third-party vendor, as long as the transaction is processed through the retailer’s platform, which yours was.

Many states have their own consumer protection statutes that reinforce this duty. For example, Maryland’s Consumer Protection Act prohibits unfair or deceptive trade practices, including failing to honor refund promises or misrepresenting return procedures. In your case, the repeated assurances of a refund and the instruction to donate the defective refrigerator could arguably fall within that definition.

What makes this case maddening is that every system seemed to work halfway. The pickup was scheduled but not processed. Walmart issued a label but for the wrong item. The refund was promised but never delivered. In the end, Walmart’s system wasn’t broken; it was fractured by too many middlemen and too little accountability.

So what happened when I brought this case to Walmart’s attention? Let’s just say the retailer moved faster once I asked. After a review, Walmart coordinated a proper pickup, issued a full refund, and even sent a $100 gift card to apologize for the trouble.

Remember, if you shop at Walmart.com — or any large marketplace — check the fine print below the product name. If it says “sold and shipped by Walmart,” your rights are clearer and your refund easier to enforce. If it lists a third-party vendor, you’re stepping into a gray zone where customer service can quickly turn into a guessing game.

Henry Pash upgrades his Hilton timeshare but soon realizes he can’t afford the extra cost. He wants to revert to his original agreement, but unreturned calls, conflicting advice, and a 43-point credit drop just leave him frustrated. Is there a way out?

Question

I recently upgraded our Hilton Grand Vacations timeshare, but I really can’t afford it. I want to return to our original agreement, which I can honor fully. 

I’ve contacted Hilton multiple times over several months. Representatives have told me not to make payments while they handled the issue. But now my account shows delinquency and my credit score has dropped 43 points. How can I fix this? —Henry Pash, Woodstock, Ga.

Answer

You did the responsible thing by reaching out quickly to reverse the upgrade and before you used any of the benefits. But the company’s delayed responses and conflicting instructions have made the situation much worse. When a representative tells you not to make a payment, you rely on that guidance, but unfortunately it triggered a credit drop, which is completely unacceptable.

Before I go any further, and for the benefit of everyone reading this, let me say that you could have avoided this problem by running the numbers before you upgraded your membership, not afterwards. Timeshares are easy to get into, but harder (and sometimes impossible) to get out of.

You kept a detailed paper trail, which really helped your case. Every email, voicemail, and call note you’ve logged is essential. That documentation is what gives you leverage when a company doesn’t follow through on its promises. In cases like this, it’s often your only protection against automated billing systems or internal miscommunication.

You also have consumer protections on your side. Under the Fair Credit Reporting Act, Hilton must correct any inaccurate information on your credit report promptly. Your account should never have remained delinquent while the upgrade reversal was unresolved. The Truth in Lending Act requires clear disclosure of your obligations and proper handling of payments during disputes. And don’t forget, many states have timeshare laws allowing you to cancel or reverse an upgrade within a certain period. These statutes give you legal leverage if the company stalls or gives you conflicting advice. Unfortunately, while you requested a reversal quickly after your purchase, you appear to have missed the state-mandated window. (Related: Downgraded from business class to economy on KLM. But they messed with the wrong passengers!)

Persistence is key. Keep escalating politely but firmly when local offices fail to respond. Copy higher-level executives and maintain your written record. (I publish the names, numbers and email addresses of the Hilton Grand Vacations executives on my consumer advocacy site, Elliott.org.) That combination of patience, assertiveness, and documentation is usually what separates a successful resolution from a drawn-out mess.

I reached out to the company on your behalf. After months of back-and-forth, Hilton Grand Vacations agreed to reverse your upgrade transaction. Your account has been returned to the original time slot, and Hilton Grand Vacations has refunded your $4,500 down payment. Best of all, your credit score is back, too.  

You got lucky. You requested a downgrade after your cooling-off period, but the level of ambiguity in the company’s statements to you gave you a strong case for a reversal. But as they say, don’t try this at home. Once you’ve made any kind of timeshare transaction, chances are you can’t undo it that easily.

American Airlines says Charles Shearer and his son voluntarily gave up their seats on a recent flight from Cleveland to New York.

Sherer says that’s a lie. He was on his way to Japan for his mother-in-law’s funeral, and his wife, who was accompanying them, ended up staying on the flight.

What’s at stake? Well, American gave him a $500 voucher, and it says that’s all it will give him since he voluntarily gave up his seats. Sherer says he’s owed more — a lot more — under federal law. 

“American Airlines is claiming that, the day after my wife’s mother died in Japan, while we were en route, I decided to voluntarily let my grieving wife go on without us,” says. “And that now, I’m lying about it.”

Someone is lying, that’s for sure — and I have a pretty good idea who.

Welcome to the Orwellian world of airline bumping, where “involuntary” can magically transform into “voluntary” with a few keystrokes in an airline’s computer system. It’s a neat trick that saves airlines thousands of dollars per incident. And as Shearer discovered, it’s nearly impossible to prove otherwise after the fact.

This case raises several important questions about airline bumping practices and passenger rights:

• What’s the difference between voluntary and involuntary denied boarding, and why does it matter?
• How can passengers protect themselves when airlines mischaracterize an involuntary bumping as voluntary?
• What compensation are passengers legally entitled to when they’re bumped from an oversold flight?

When volunteering isn’t voluntary

Shearer, his wife, and son arrived at Cleveland Hopkins International Airport with plenty of time before their flight to New York. From there, they’d connect to Japan for his mother-in-law’s funeral. They checked in at the gate and received paper boarding passes.

Then they waited.

When their boarding group was called, they got in line behind Shearer’s wife. But when they reached the gate agent, something went wrong.

“The gate agent said that we didn’t have assigned seats,” Shearer recalls. “So they pulled us out of line.”

What happened next is where American Airlines’ version of events diverges sharply from the Shearer family’s experience. 

According to Shearer, the gate agents told them only one seat remained available. They protested. The agents insisted finding two more seats was impossible. Shearer’s wife boarded alone, leaving her husband and young son behind as the gate door closed.

“Some time after the gate door had closed, one of the agents said something like ‘We can give you $500 for giving up your seat,'” Shearer recalls. “I know it wasn’t voluntary, but we can give it to you.”

That last phrase is the smoking gun. The gate agent verbally acknowledged the bumping was involuntary — but offered the voucher anyway.

Shearer accepted the $500 vouchers. At that moment, he wasn’t thinking about compensation. He was thinking about how to get his distraught son to Japan for his grandmother’s funeral.

They finally arrived in Japan more than seven hours late. To make matters worse, American Airlines had left their luggage at JFK.

“At the time, I wasn’t concerned about compensation but about how to get to Japan,” Shearer says.

After the funeral, Shearer researched federal regulations and discovered something troubling. Under federal law, passengers who are involuntarily denied boarding and arrive more than two hours late are entitled to 400 percent of their one-way fare, up to $2,150 per passenger. For him and his son, that meant $4,300 in cash compensation — not $1,000 in vouchers with restrictions and expiration dates.

He wrote to American Airlines requesting cash compensation.

The airline’s response was a form letter dripping with sympathy but offering only an additional $100 travel credit for each passenger. When Shearer pushed back, citing the specific federal regulation, American Airlines’ tune changed completely.

According to the airline’s records, Shearer and his son had “volunteered” to give up their seats. Therefore, they weren’t entitled to the federally mandated compensation. 

Case closed.

“Our records indicate that you and Alan both volunteered to relinquish your seats for the Trip Credit compensation in the amount of $500 each prior to leaving the airport,” an American Airlines customer relations representative wrote.

But Shearer had evidence. He sent American Airlines screenshots of text messages he’d exchanged with his wife and father immediately after the incident. In one, his wife chided him for yelling at the gate agents. (“I was indeed furious,” Shearer admitted. “My wife was sobbing and my kid was panicking and confused.”)

Not exactly the behavior of someone who’d volunteered.

American Airlines didn’t budge.

The voluntary versus involuntary distinction

Understanding the difference between voluntary and involuntary denied boarding isn’t just semantic hairsplitting. It’s the difference between a few hundred dollars in restricted vouchers and thousands in cash.

When an airline oversells a flight — which is legal and happens regularly — it has to first ask for volunteers. The Department of Transportation defines volunteers as “passengers who respond to the carrier’s request to give up their seat willingly and accept the carrier’s compensation in exchange for relinquishing a confirmed reserved space.”

The key words: “request” and “willingly.”

If not enough passengers volunteer, the airline can bump passengers involuntarily. But that triggers strict federal compensation requirements that went into effect in early 2025.

For flights originating in the US that arrive at their destination more than two hours late. that’s 400 percent of the one-way fare, capped at $2,150 per passenger. The airline must pay this compensation immediately — at the airport, on the day of the flight. If the airline can offer substitute transportation that leaves before it can pay, it has 24 hours. Here’s more information on what your airline owes you when you get bumped.

The compensation for voluntary bumping? Whatever you negotiate. Could be $200. Could be $2,000. Could be a bag of peanuts. The government doesn’t regulate it because you’re supposedly entering into a voluntary agreement.

This creates a powerful incentive for airlines to characterize every bumping as voluntary, even when it clearly isn’t.

“When a flight is oversold, we ask for volunteers at the gate to relinquish their seats voluntarily in exchange for compensation,” an American Airlines representative wrote to Shearer. “If we do not get enough volunteers, it may become necessary to involuntarily deny boarding, which under federal regulations, requires that we provide compensation for those impacted.”

But here’s what the airline didn’t mention: Sometimes airlines pull passengers out of boarding lines, tell them there’s no room, offer them a token voucher, and then document the transaction as “voluntary” in their systems.

The practice exploits passengers’ ignorance of their rights and their emotional vulnerability. When you’re watching your crying wife board a plane to her mother’s funeral without you, you’re not thinking about federal regulations. You’re thinking about damage control. And when a gate agent offers you something — anything — you might accept it just to move forward with your life.

That acceptance becomes the airline’s get-out-of-jail-free card.

How to protect yourself from being bumped without compensation

Protecting yourself requires presence of mind that’s difficult to muster in crisis situations. But it’s possible.

1. If you’re pulled from a boarding line, don’t panic. Ask explicitly: “Am I being involuntarily denied boarding?” Make the gate agent say it. If possible, record the interaction on your phone.
   
2. Document everything immediately. Send yourself emails. Text family members describing what happened. Take video, if possible. The contemporaneous nature of these communications makes them powerful evidence later.
   
3. Don’t accept anything at the gate without understanding what you’re giving up. Ask: “If I accept this voucher, am I waiving my right to denied boarding compensation under federal law?” If the agent can’t or won’t answer clearly, don’t accept the offer.
   
4. Collect information. Your boarding pass. The gate information board. Any written offers from the airline. These documents can be crucial when the airline’s version of events contradicts yours weeks later.

Finally, know that accepting a voucher under duress doesn’t necessarily waive your rights to compensation. The regulation requires that passengers willingly accept the compensation. Being told “this is all we can offer” or “we can give you this since you got bumped” doesn’t constitute a voluntary, informed agreement.

But proving you didn’t volunteer? That’s the hard part.

What compensation passengers are really owed

For Shearer and his son, who arrived in Japan more than seven hours late after a domestic connection, the math was clear: $2,150 each, or $4,300 total was due them.

But there’s a catch. Well, several catches.

First, if you volunteer — truly volunteer, not “volunteer” in the way Shearer allegedly did — you’re entitled only to what you negotiate. That’s why gate agents love volunteers. They’re cheap.

Second, the regulations contain exceptions. Small aircraft with 60 or fewer seats are exempt for operational or safety reasons. If you don’t follow the airline’s contract of carriage requirements (missing check-in deadlines, being disruptive), you forfeit your rights. And if the airline denies you boarding for passport or documentation issues, even mistakenly, the rules get murky.

Third — and this is the biggest loophole — the airline gets to decide whether your bumping was voluntary or involuntary. Sure, you can file a DOT complaint and you can appeal to executives. But the airline’s contemporaneous records at the gate carry enormous weight.

“After a review of the flight information, it was revealed that the compensation you both were given for Denied Boarding was accurate,” American Airlines wrote. “We’ve reviewed our reports thoroughly, and we see you were both documented as volunteers.”

The DOT receives thousands of bumping complaints each year. In 2023, American Airlines involuntarily denied boarding to only 568 passengers out of millions transported — a rate so low it’s almost negligible. Either American has cracked the code on inventory management, or a lot of “involuntary” bumpings are being documented as “voluntary.”

Given the financial incentives, it’s not hard to guess which explanation is more likely.

Will they ever get their compensation?

After the DOT complaint went nowhere, Shearer reached out to our advocacy team. We reviewed his paper trail, including those damning text messages, and agreed to contact American Airlines on his behalf.

Our advocate, Dwayne Coward, sent a message to American’s executive customer service team, flagging the discrepancy between Shearer’s communications and the airline’s official records.

Then we waited.

And waited.

The airline initially confused Shearer’s case with another passenger’s issue. Then it promised to look into it. Then it went silent for two weeks while Shearer followed up, wondering if he’d ever see resolution.

Finally, two months after our team took the case, Shearer received an email from American Airlines that began with genuine contrition. After “further review” — interesting how these reviews keep finding new information — the airline acknowledged what should have been obvious from the start.

“As such, I’ve sent each of you a $2,150 check via postal mail to the address on file,” an airline representative wrote. 

The total: $4,300. Exactly what federal law required. Plus, the airline let Shearer keep the $1,200 in vouchers it had already issued.

Victory? Absolutely. But it took two months, a DOT complaint, and intervention by a consumer advocacy organization to get an airline to comply with federal law.

And here’s the uncomfortable truth: Most passengers in Shearer’s situation don’t fight back. They accept the vouchers, internalize the airline’s version of events, and move on with their lives, thousands of dollars poorer than federal law intended.

The system works this way by design. Airlines have discovered that most involuntary bumpings can be converted to “voluntary” ones with the right combination of pressure, confusion, and nominal compensation. The odds of getting caught are low. The penalties for getting caught are negligible — they just pay what they should have paid in the first place.

It’s a risk-reward calculation that makes perfect business sense, even if it makes terrible ethical sense.

The DOT could fix this easily. Require gate agents to explicitly inform passengers whether they’re being involuntarily bumped and what compensation they’re entitled to before offering any vouchers. Require airlines to provide written notices at the gate, not just verbal offers in the chaotic moments before departure. Impose fines when airlines mischaracterize involuntary bumpings as voluntary.

Will it? Probably not.

Until then, you need to know your rights and stand firm. If an airline employee pulls you aside at the gate, or tells you there’s no seat available, you’re probably being involuntarily denied boarding — no matter what the gate agent calls it.

Don’t let them tell you otherwise. And definitely don’t let them compensate you otherwise.

If you want to understand why luggage is being abandoned at the airport, then join me on a recent flight from Kuala Lumpur to Johor Bahru. 

Just before I boarded the short domestic flight in Malaysia, a gate agent with a broad smile pulled me aside. My carry-on bag was too big, he cheerfully announced. 

The penalty? A $35 “extra baggage” fee.

As I reluctantly forked over my credit card, I glanced at my 24-year-old son, who was traveling with me. He’d already unzipped his slightly overpacked carry-on and was dumping items into a nearby garbage can to reduce the weight and size. Granola bars, apples, a half-eaten bag of cereal — gone before the agent could say a word.

The math was easy: pay $35 or trash $10 worth of food. He chose the trash can.

How many other travelers make this same calculation every day? In the United States, where the cost of flying a bag now can exceed the price of a ticket, it’s becoming more of an option. In Japan, they’re not simply lightening their load. They’re leaving the entire bag. 

Why are people abandoning luggage in Japan?

Walk into a hotel in Osaka or Tokyo and you’ll see warning signs that would’ve seemed absurd five years ago: “Abandon your luggage and you will be charged.” Luggage dumping has become so routine that hotels post warnings like “no smoking” signs.

“Travelers are treating luggage as disposable,” says Georgia Fowkes, a travel advisor for Altezza Travel who saw the problem firsthand on a recent visit to Japan. “And hotels are inheriting the mess.”

Narita Airport in Tokyo reportedly stores dozens of unclaimed bags daily. Kansai Airport in Osaka and Chubu Airport in Nagoya report similar pile-ups. Some hotels have started giving bags away or repurposing them as planters just to cope with the deluge of luggage.

The situation in Japan may be unique. Many people visit Japan to go shopping. They buy cheap rolling luggage to roll around the mall and then leave it at the hotel or train station before they fly home. 

But that’s not the only reason luggage is being left behind. Asian air carriers are notorious for charging extra fees for luggage, so part of the reason may also be that passengers are trying to avoid an additional charge.

There are fears that this luggage abandonment could spread.

The math behind luggage abandonment

Airlines have turned baggage into a profit center. Checked bag fees, carry-on charges, and overweight penalties all add up. When your beaten-up roller bag costs more to check than it’s worth, walking away becomes logical.

“The abandoned luggage issue isn’t just about saving a few bucks on a checked bag,” says Zackaria Saadioui, founder of Prked, a peer-to-peer airport parking marketplace. “It’s a sign of fee fatigue. Travelers are being nickel-and-dimed at every turn.” (Related: New “gotchas” that travelers never see coming.)

Ernie Garcia, a frequent traveler who works for a marketing agency in New York, routinely abandons his belongings at the airport.

“Sometimes, I’ve abandoned so many clothes that I no longer need a checked bag,” he says. 

If a bag starts to get worn out, it also gets left behind.

“The last roller suitcase I abandoned had a wonky handle that was difficult to extend and retract,” he recalls. “I left it in the hotel in Croatia.”

Abandoned luggage is spreading

So far, the evidence of the abandoned luggage trend is mostly anecdotal. It’s an airport here, a hotel there — and plenty of travelers like Garcia or my son who are filling the garbage cans at the airport. 

There are no comprehensive surveys that show travelers are dropping their luggage en masse before departure. But experts say it could happen soon. Increasingly strict airline policies are pressuring passengers to make a difficult decision.

“Airlines have steadily pushed up checked and even carry-on fees,” says Lucinda Faucheux, co-founder of Travel Support Circle, a travel agency. “So you can imagine a traveler weighing up the cost of paying another fee versus just walking away from an old case.”

Some airports now warn travelers about disposal timelines for unclaimed items. They typically hold bags for 30 to 90 days before auctioning, donating, or destroying them. Hotels store items for a few weeks, but dispose of the items promptly if they can’t find the owner.

All of this because the airlines want to make more money.

“Hotels and airports are inheriting someone else’s profit-maximizing strategy,” says Jacob Elban, a marketing specialist who has watched this problem spiral. “It’s physical evidence of a broken pricing model.” 

Should you abandon your bag?

Seasoned travelers have developed strategies to avoid fees — and sometimes abandonment.

1. Think about your luggage before you leave. Pack only what’s necessary so that you don’t have to think about leaving something behind. “Choose your items wisely and select meaningful possessions,” says André Disselkamp, co-founder of the travel insurance site Insurancy. And remember, less is more. (Here is everything you need to know before planning your next trip.)
   
2. Keep ’em separated. Know what’s valuable and what’s disposable. That’s Marcia Sherrill’s advice. She’s abandoned her bags twice. “Sometimes, it simply isn’t worth paying hundreds of dollars to send a no-name bag back to the U.S.,” says Sherrill, who publishes a shopping website in New York. “Of course we hang on for dear life to our Hartmann and Tumi bags.”
   
3. Have a contingency plan. Avoid a situation where you’re the last person to board and you have to simply walk away from your bag. Give yourself time to check in, and, if necessary, ask an airport employee where you can get rid of a bag quickly. And remember, you can always mail the items to your home address from the airport, if necessary.

Airlines are doing everything they can to put you on the spot at the gate. Pay us a luggage fee or you’ll lose your valuables. Traveling light and keeping your critical items with you ensures you can call their bluff.

Airlines created this problem by recklessly monetizing every inch of baggage space. Hotels and airports now have to manage the fallout. And so do you.

Surveillance pricing is getting a bad rap as an evil scheme to squeeze a few extra dollars from you. Maryland is weighing a first-of-its-kind ban on the practice for groceries. And JetBlue is facing a federal lawsuit accusing it of using passengers’ personal data to raise fares. 

But banning surveillance pricing is the wrong approach. Instead, why not fix it?

What surveillance pricing?

Surveillance pricing (sometimes called personalized pricing or dynamic pricing) is what happens when a company uses everything it knows about you to decide how much to charge you.

That includes your location, browsing history and income. It might also factor in how often you’ve shopped there and what device you’re using. All of it goes into a model that projects how much you’d be willing to pay. 

So, let’s say you searched for flights to Miami three times this week on JetBlue. Congratulations. You may have just told the airline you’ll pay more for that seat.

Live in a wealthy ZIP code? Your grocery store’s app may have adjusted the value of your digital coupon before you reach the checkout. 

The Federal Trade Commission released a report in early 2025 documenting how eight major companies, including retailers, financial services firms and a car rental company, were piloting or actively using surveillance pricing powered by third-party data brokers.

Here’s what’s wrong with surveillance pricing

The trouble with banning this practice is that it doesn’t fix anything. 

Airlines already charge different prices to different customers based on when they book, what loyalty tier they occupy, and which device they’re using. Hotels do it. Rental car companies do it. Online retailers have been doing it for years. 

If Maryland bans it at the grocery checkout, the algorithms will simply migrate to a place regulators can’t easily see, away from dynamic price displays at the store and to coupons or online purchases.

It’s like a game of whack-a-mole, and companies have all the resources, so they’ll always win.

It’s time for a pricing transparency principle

Surveillance pricing is enriching businesses at your expense because it’s invisible. Consumers can’t comparison-shop against a price tailored specifically to them unless they know it’s happening. 

So here’s what might work.

First, a company should always tell you if it’s using your personal data to create a “custom” or “just for you” price. And it should happen as soon as you start the shopping experience, not as a P.S. later in the process.

Second, a business must disclose exactly what data it used and how it affected your price, before you buy.

And finally, the company needs to disclose the exact type of data it used to determine the price. 

It doesn’t have to be complicated. Something like: “Based on your location, search history and purchase behavior, we’re offering you this price.”

These simple requirements would level the playing field. 

Give consumers a fighting chance

It comes down to fairness. If you’re allowed to use my data against me, shouldn’t I be able to do the same to your business?

It would be nice if companies revealed how they determine their custom prices, too. Are they considering your ZIP code? Device type? Search frequency? Loyalty status? Browsing behavior? 

With that information, a reasonably savvy consumer, or a consumer app, stands a fighting chance against these troublesome pricing practices. They can delete their cookies, switch to a browser that masks their device or use a virtual private network. (Related: Smart hotel room syndrome: Is technology making your accommodations unusable?)

This kind of disclosure has a precedent. It’s what we already demand of lenders under the Equal Credit Opportunity Act, which requires creditors to explain why they denied a loan. We should expect the same transparency from any company that uses a scoring model to set the price we pay.

Fixing surveillance pricing is dead simple: It’s disclosure, disclosure, and more disclosure. 

Any company using personal data to set consumer prices must tell you, in plain language, at the point of sale, what data it collected, what data it used to set your price.

If companies believe personalized pricing is efficient and fair, they should have no problem explaining themselves to you or to an appropriate federal regulatory body. 

And if they’re not willing to, well, maybe they shouldn’t be doing it.

If you have a Spirit Airlines ticket, the bad news has just landed: your flight is canceled, and you might spend the next few weeks fighting your credit card company for a refund.

Spirit Airlines announced that it has begun an orderly wind-down of its operations, effective immediately. Every flight has been canceled and the customer service lines are closed.

The shutdown comes after the Trump administration’s $500 million rescue plan, which would have given the federal government an unprecedented 90 percent stake in the carrier, fell apart over the weekend.

It’s a remarkable end to a remarkable week. After blocking Spirit’s merger with JetBlue on antitrust grounds in 2024, the federal government spent the past several days weighing whether to essentially own the airline instead.

Why Spirit Airlines failed

Spirit Airlines has struggled to find a path to profitability since the Iran war sent jet fuel prices skyrocketing. It filed for Chapter 11 twice in less than a year and lost tens of millions in early 2026 alone.

The proposed federal bailout would have been a first-in-priority loan, putting the government ahead of other creditors. Bondholders remained divided, and the deal collapsed. (Related: Budget airlines want a tax holiday—but where’s yours?)

In a statement on its restructuring website, Spirit said it was “proud of the impact of our ultra-low-cost model on the industry over the last 34 years.” CEO Dave Davis said the airline had been working on restructuring its business, but a sustained rise in fuel prices, combined with broader financial pressures, made a turnaround impossible.

What this means if you have a Spirit ticket

Here’s what to do right now:

Save all your paperwork. Download your flight receipt that shows your payment, screenshot your confirmation, and keep your itinerary somewhere offline. Spirit’s website and app may stop working in the coming days. You’ll need that documentation for any chargeback or have to file a bankruptcy claim.

Book a replacement flight now, before fares spike. On early Saturday morning, several Spirit competitors announced plans to accommodate displaced Spirite passengers without raising fares. But that goodwill won’t last forever, and prices are bound to rise in some markets. (Here is our guide with the best travel advice.)

Forget about your Free Spirit points. The loyalty program is winding down with the airline. Points are not protected by bankruptcy court the way physical assets are. If you were sitting on a meaningful balance, that balance is now gone.

Refunds and credit card disputes

Spirit says it will automatically process refunds for guests who booked directly using a credit or debit card. Compensation for travelers who paid with vouchers, credits, or Free Spirit points is up in the air.

Remember, under the Fair Credit Billing Act, you can dispute a charge for services not rendered. Notify your card issuer no later than 60 days after the first statement showing the airfare charge. Credit card companies are typically more lenient on the 60-day requirement when you book your tickets months in advance.

Debit card holders have far weaker protections. The bank is not required to refund you, but it might.

Travel insurance probably won’t help. Because Spirit’s troubles were a “known event,” most policies treat it like a pre-existing condition and will not cover financial default on bookings made in recent weeks. A handful of policies from companies like Faye and Allianz offer financial-default coverage, but only if purchased before the carrier’s troubles became public. (Related: Spirit Airlines’ death shows why we need better passenger protections.)

For further questions, Spirit has appointed Epiq as its claims agent. You can reach Epiq at SpiritAirlinesInfo@epiqglobal.com or by phone at (855) 952-6606 in the U.S. and Canada, or (971) 715-2831 internationally.

Did the government do enough to help?

Now to our question.

And a follow-up question or two:

If you said yes, what do you think would have been appropriate? Should the government have owned 90 percent of the airline? Or maybe offered something else?

If you said no, under what circumstances would a bailout have met with your approval? Or was Spirit not worth saving under any circumstances?

My take: The U.S. government has spent decades deregulating the skies to let the market decide winners and losers. For a moment, it looked like Washington was going to nationalize an airline. In the end, the market got the last word. If Spirit’s business model could not survive a fuel spike, maybe it was a house of cards.

Your turn

What’s your opinion? Should Washington have saved Spirit with a $500 million check and a 90 percent stake, or did the market just do its job? Join the discussion in the comments.

The North Sea edges closer to an overgrown dike, sending an occasional spray of frigid, gray water toward Klaus Melbye.

It brings back memories of a massive storm that struck this area a quarter century ago. Melbye recalls that water levels crested more than 7 feet above sea level, almost overwhelming the clay barrier that prevents the ocean from flooding Denmark’s farmland.

“We got lucky that day,” says Melbye, director of the Wadden Sea Centre, a visitor center in Ribe, Denmark, that serves as a gateway to the Danish Wadden Sea National Park. The storm lasted only a few hours and subsided during a low tide.

But that luck may not hold. 

It isn’t a question of if the North Sea will flood this coastline, but when. This existential threat defines life in this Nordic country, where people have been pushing back against the water for centuries. For the residents of this UNESCO World Heritage Site, which is also Denmark’s largest national park outside of Greenland, sustainability is not a convenient catchphrase. It’s a matter of survival.

The Wadden Sea is also ground zero in a fight to preserve an entire ecosystem, which extends from the Netherlands to Germany and Denmark. This protected area is the central pit stop on the East Atlantic Flyway for up to 15 million migratory birds. 

Visitors can see this urgent adaptation unfolding in real time, observing the shift from stubborn resistance to radical collaboration.

The failure of the walls

The sea-facing side of a dike near Ribe. (Photo by Aren Elliott.)

For generations, the solution to containing the sea has been massive engineering: building dikes to reclaim land. But recent experience suggests that method may no longer work.

While the last century saw sea levels rise by just 4 inches, Melbye estimates that the next 50 years will bring a terrifying acceleration. Sea levels could rise by as much as 1 ½ feet. (Related: Are the world’s most sustainable cities worth visiting?)

This dramatic forecast is forcing Europe to scramble. But traditional methods are already showing cracks. Germany and the Netherlands are building dikes up to 36 feet. 

“But the seawater is going under the dikes,” says Melbye. 

Jens Hansen points to a bird-watching building near a nature protection area in Wadden Sea National Park. (Photo by Aren Elliott.)

Is collaboration a radical cure?

Faced with a devastating climate crisis, Denmark is considering a counterintuitive and profound response: strategic retreat. The leading scientific discussion in Denmark is now focused on working with the sea, not against it.

This kind of radical, adaptive thinking — giving land back to the sea — requires a unique governance structure. It demands consensus, not compulsion, according to officials. This is where Jens Laurits Hansen, who works at the National Park Office on the island of Rømø, defines Denmark’s fundamental conservation strategy.

Hansen’s office is tasked with safeguarding the future of the Wadden Sea, but it operates without the kind of authority granted to other national parks. 

Hansen explains that, unlike the much more top-down approach seen elsewhere, the Danish National Park model is built entirely on voluntary partnership. 

“We don’t have the authority to dictate anything,” he says. “We have to do all our projects on a voluntary basis.”

This collaborative philosophy is the key to local sustainability. Hansen notes that while the process of securing an agreement with landowners can be lengthy, the final solutions are far more long-lasting because people are a part of it. 

“When the community is involved, the conservation goals—like flood protection and ecosystem health—become inherently sustainable, ensuring they last long after the government funding runs out,” he explains.

You can see this strategy in action with the dike reinforcement on Rømø. Hansen’s team needed enormous amounts of clay, but they chose to dig it locally. This single decision saved them from hauling 13,500 truckloads of clay, dramatically cutting carbon dioxide emissions and simultaneously creating the Juvre Engsø bird refuge out of the excavated area. It plans the same approach when it comes to protecting the land against the ocean — and ultimately, how high to build the dikes.

Other projects include buying a 170-acre farm with plans to remove toxins and create wet areas to improve biodiversity. 

The most important part? 

“They will open the area to the public, so we can go and see the processes of nature restoration,” he says.

If you’re visiting the Wadden Sea, you might also get roped into being a conservationist for a day. Hansen’s office runs a program called BABINE, which recruits tourists to help clear open spaces to create more habitats for birds and butterflies. The goal is to promote sustainable conduct as the new normal. But it’s not the only program for visitors.

Pacific and Atlantic oyster shells, side by side at the Wadden Sea Centre. (Photo by Aren Elliott.)

The gastronomic intervention

The most immediate way tourists can witness and participate in the survival mission is by joining the hunt for the invasive Pacific oyster.

These foreign oysters, originally imported from Japan and Southeast Asia, spread rapidly after escaping from ill-conceived aquaculture projects. They now form massive reefs, displacing the native blue mussels that are a vital food source for ducks and other wading birds. 

The solution is brilliant: The park encourages visitors to eat as many of the invaders as they can, for free. The national park offers oyster tours from October to March, when they are safe to consume. Visitors, equipped with buckets and knives, can walk out onto the seabed to forage for a free delicacy and also help the ecosystem.

This unusual blend of tourism and triage is key to the park’s function that extends to its buildings. For example, the Wadden Sea Centre, which acts as a key gate to the national park, was built using local, natural materials, relies on ground heat, and uses solar cells to maintain power.

What’s at stake in the Wadden Sea

Behind the dike are kilometers of farmland, towns, and urban areas, all on flat terrain. (Photo by Aren Elliott.)

The Wadden Sea is under threat from all angles: an encroaching sea, invasive species and a shrinking ecosystem. 

Melbye shared grim new scientific evidence that climate change is actually shrinking the bodies of the migratory birds. Because Arctic summers are warming, the insects they rely on are hatching earlier. When the birds arrive, they miss the peak food supply, which means the chicks are smaller and the adults are getting smaller.

Officials hope that tourism will help make the area sustainable. Visitors can come here to harvest invasive oysters, help create habitats for the migratory birds, and spend their tourism dollars and kroner. 

The Wadden Sea is an irreplaceable larder. By turning tourists into active conservationists and daring to question centuries of engineering tradition, the Wadden Sea National Park is building the global blueprint for how humanity must adapt to the unforgiving pressures of a changed climate. Whether it succeeds remains an open question.

Lawrence Signori thought he’d fully paid for his rental car in Porto, Portugal. But not according to his rental company. Europcar charged him an extra $407 for insurance and other fees. Can he get this fixed?

Question

I booked a one-way car rental in Porto, Portugal, through Hotels.com. When I picked up the vehicle at the Europcar counter, the agent said I hadn’t paid the one-way fee, even though my reservation clearly showed it was one-way. She added $155 to my bill.

She also refused to accept the insurance I had purchased through my travel plan or my credit card, and forced me to buy Europcar’s “Premium Protection” for another $155. On top of that, she added a $97 “Premium Station Surcharge,” even though I had reserved the car at the Porto airport from the beginning.

Before I left the United States, I had already paid Hotels.com $338 on my Visa card. Europcar claimed that only $243 had been applied to my rental and insisted the rest went to Hotels.com as its commission. I contacted Hotels.com for help, but all I got were vague responses.

I’m asking for a refund of $407, which represents the unfair charges. Can you help? — Lawrence Signori, Jupiter, Fla.

Answer

You shouldn’t have been billed for any of these nuisance fees. Hotels.com says all those charges are included in the taxes and fees portion of your prepaid rental. Europcar should not have added them again at the counter.

As for the insurance and station surcharge, that’s a familiar script at car rental counters. Some agents will pressure you into buying their coverage or tack on extras that weren’t disclosed up front. Once you sign the rental agreement and drive away, it can be impossible to get those charges reversed. That’s why I always recommend reviewing the rental agreement carefully before leaving the lot, every fee, every option.

Hotels.com initially told you that Europcar hadn’t charged you twice, but when my advocacy team reviewed the paperwork, we discovered the math didn’t add up. You prepaid enough to cover both the base rental and the one-way fee. 

This is a bizarre case. Usually, our readers get hit with one, maybe two fees when they rent a car. But it looks like Europcar slammed you with three fees. Some of them may have been a result of crossed wires with Hotels.com. But still, three has to be a new record!

I think you might have gotten farther by appealing to someone higher up the food chain at Hotels.com. I publish the names, numbers and email addresses of the executives at Hotels.com (Expedia) and Europcar on my consumer advocacy site, Elliott.org.

I contacted Expedia, which owns Hotels.com, and suggested that it take another look at your case. After a few rounds of back-and-forth, Expedia agreed. You received a full refund for the extras.

Next time you rent a vehicle anywhere, I recommend booking directly with a car rental company and carefully reviewing all charges before signing. And one more tip: if you’re picking up a car overseas, bring proof of insurance. It can help you avoid unwanted extra charges for mandatory insurance.

Daria Popova reserves an Airbnb in Ireland. But it turns out Airbnb has reservations about her. It disables her account, cancels her booking but keeps the $1000 she paid. What’s going on?

Question

I don’t understand why Airbnb deleted my account. I’ve been a responsible guest with excellent reviews. Airbnb says I violated its community standards, but I know I didn’t. The only explanation I can think of is my location.

I live in Zaporizhzhia, Ukraine, which is near the front line but remains under Ukrainian control. Airbnb will not do business in Russia. 

Some international services wrongly mark our entire region as “disputed,” which feels discriminatory and unfair. Airbnb asked me to confirm my address, and right after I did, it froze my account permanently.

I appealed and sent all the information they requested, including proof of residence. Still, they refused to restore my account and said I can’t create a new one. And even worse, I never received my refund of $1,000 for the cancellations.

Can you help me get my money back and, if possible, my account reinstated? Daria Popova, Zaporizhzhia, Ukraine

Answer

Airbnb owes you both an explanation and a refund. The company is allowed to close an account if it believes a guest has violated its terms, but it should provide a valid reason and process your refund in a timely manner. None of that happened here.

You followed the right steps, appealing the decision, providing documentation, and contacting customer support. Unfortunately, it looks like you got stuck in a loop of automated replies from Airbnb. That left you without answers or access to your funds.

This isn’t the first case where Airbnb got its geography wrong. I mediated a case at the beginning of the Ukraine war where the platform banned a guest because she used to live in Russia and still had a Russian phone number.

When the normal resolution process doesn’t work, you can always appeal to an Airbnb executive. I list all of them on my consumer advocacy site, Elliott.org.

I reached out to Airbnb on your behalf. A representative said the company would review your case. Shortly after, Airbnb asked you again for your address information. You provided it, but then received the same canned response that your account was permanently blocked. At that point, you still had no refund.

So I went back to Airbnb and asked for a second review. That finally broke the logjam. Airbnb refunded the full amount of your canceled reservations and reactivated your account

The takeaway: When a company ignores you, persistence matters. A paper trail, a clear record of promises made (like refund deadlines), and, if needed, an advocate, can make the difference between losing $1,000 and getting it back.

Premium doesn’t necessarily mean reliable. Just ask Alan Nathan, who paid Luggage Forward $1,400 to ship his baggage from Northern California to France.

Nathan thought the premium price and the on-time guarantee meant his four bags containing nearly all of his and his wife’s clothing, including critical medical equipment, would be there on time. 

It didn’t. 

Luggage Forward lost the bags. Instead of finding them, Nathan got a lesson in corporate finger-pointing and doublespeak, as his bags were simultaneously “delivered” and missing.

“I’m left with missing bags and no resolution,” he says.

This case raises several important questions that frequent travelers and luggage shippers need answered:

• What happens when premium luggage shipping services fail to deliver?
• How can customers hold both shipping brokers and carriers accountable?
• When are “on-time guarantees” actually enforceable?

But first, let’s see what went wrong with this luggage delivery.

The promise that became a problem

Nathan’s ordeal began with the best of intentions. Like many international travelers, he wanted to avoid airline baggage fees and the hassle of lugging multiple suitcases through airports. 

Luggage Forward’s premium service seemed like the perfect solution. It offered door-to-door delivery with an On-Time Guarantee that promised to refund double the shipping fee if delivery was late. The company outsources its services to FedEx, a shipping company with a strong record.

“The on-time guarantee was an important factor in why we chose Luggage Forward,” Nathan explains. “We packed only a bare minimum of things to carry with us, trusting that our luggage would follow promptly.”

The four bags, two Amazon duffles, one green REI cordura duffle, and one gray Atlantic roll-aboard, were picked up from Nathan’s home in Sonoma a few days before his flight. Everything seemed on track for the promised delivery date roughly a week later.

Then the trouble started.

A week later, Luggage Forward’s support team asked Nathan for travel documents showing his “arrival into Ireland and departure from Ireland.” 

There was just one problem: Nathan wasn’t in Ireland. He was in France, as clearly stated in his shipping address.

“I am in Neuilly-sur-Seine, France, not Ireland,” Nathan replied, wondering how a company that specializes in international shipping could confuse the two countries.

The geographic mix-up was just the beginning. Despite Nathan providing his French phone number, his building’s concierge contact information, and even permission for the carrier to deliver without signature, the promised delivery date came and went. 

Except for this weird turn of events: On the day of delivery, he received a notification from FedEx that claimed his bags had been dropped off at his building. Someone named “Lou Ann” had signed for them.

Nathan’s building has no front desk, and the concierge confirmed she had received no contact from any delivery driver.

The bags had vanished.

When premium service becomes a premium problem

What happens when a premium luggage shipping service fails to deliver? Nathan’s experience suggests the answer involves a lot of apologetic emails but very little actual problem-solving.

Luggage Forward’s response to the phantom delivery was to launch what can generously be described as a “defer and delay” strategy. 

A Luggage Forward representative repeatedly assured Nathan that the company was investigating his missing luggage and pressing FedEx for urgent updates. But weeks passed without resolution.

The company’s standard playbook appeared to involve three key tactics: apologize profusely, blame the carrier, and promise updates that never come. 

Luggage Forward told Nathan that FedEx would update him directly, but FedEx never contacted him. The company also claimed FedEx had launched an internal investigation. No investigator ever called him, he says.

This blame-shifting dance between shipping brokers and carriers has become increasingly common. Companies like Luggage Forward market themselves as premium service providers, charging prices that reflect their supposed expertise and reliability. But when things go wrong, they retreat behind their role as intermediaries, claiming limited control over the actual delivery process.

Customers don’t pay premium prices for premium excuses. They pay for results. When Nathan chose Luggage Forward over cheaper alternatives, like checking the baggage when he flew, he wasn’t just buying shipping services. He was buying peace of mind, reliability, and accountability.

Instead, he got two weeks of corporate speak and missing luggage containing his wife’s medical equipment.

The luggage shipping industry operates in a regulatory gray area that allows companies to market premium services without standing by its guarantee of premium results. Unlike airlines, which face strict Department of Transportation regulations for lost baggage compensation, luggage shipping services largely self-regulate their guarantee policies.

This creates what consumer advocates call a promise versus performance gap. Companies can advertise generous guarantees, knowing that many customers won’t pursue claims, and those who do must navigate complex dispute processes that favor the company.

How to hold shipping brokers and carriers accountable

The dual-company problem that Nathan faced, where shipping brokers and carriers each claim the other is responsible, requires a strategic approach that treats both entities as jointly liable for the service failure.

Consumer protection law generally holds that when companies present themselves as a unified service to customers, they can’t later claim separate responsibility for different parts of that service. 

This principle, known as apparent authority, means Luggage Forward can’t market door-to-door delivery service and then disclaim responsibility when FedEx fails to complete the delivery.

Nathan’s case also shows the importance of documenting every interaction with both companies. His detailed email trail with Luggage Forward support, combined with FedEx’s false delivery confirmation, created a clear paper trail proving system failure at multiple levels.

The key to accountability in these situations is refusing to accept the blame-shifting game. When Luggage Forward claimed FedEx would contact Nathan directly, he should have insisted on a three-way communication that included all parties. When FedEx marked packages as delivered without actual delivery, he needed to demand specific proof including signature images, GPS coordinates, and delivery photos. He might have thrown in an AirTag, too.

Here is our ultimate guide to finding your lost luggage. I publish the names, numbers and email addresses of the Luggage Forward and FedEx customer service executives. Reaching out to both of them in writing might have been helpful.

Credit card dispute protection also becomes important in these scenarios. Nathan’s credit card company agreed there was “a clear basis” to dispute the delivery fee, providing financial leverage that often prompts faster resolution than customer service complaints alone.

The nuclear option for unresolved shipping disputes involves filing complaints with state attorneys general in both the shipper’s and recipient’s states. These offices often have specialized consumer protection units that can cut through corporate bureaucracy more effectively than individual customers.

When are on-time guarantees actually enforceable?

Luggage Forward’s on-time guarantee promised to refund double the shipping fee for late deliveries, but the company’s initial response to Nathan’s claim suggests many businesses don’t expect customers to actually pursue guaranteed refunds.

• Is it a selling point? The enforceability of shipping guarantees depends largely on how they’re presented to customers. When companies prominently advertise guarantees as selling points, as Luggage Forward does, they create legally binding commitments that go beyond typical shipping contract limitations.

• Is it supported by federal or state law? Federal Trade Commission guidelines require that advertising claims be substantiated and honored. There are penalties for false or deceptive advertising. A company can’t use guarantee promises to induce purchases and then claim those guarantees are unenforceable when customers try to collect.

• Was there a service failure? Nathan’s case meets every criteria for a valid guarantee claim: The service was late, the delay wasn’t because of a customer error, and the company’s own systems confirmed the delivery failure. Under basic contract law, Luggage Forward owes Nathan the promised double refund.

Smart consumers should treat shipping guarantees with healthy skepticism, recognizing that the real test isn’t what companies promise but how they respond when those promises are tested. Nathan’s experience is a reminder that even legitimate claims require persistence, documentation, and sometimes third-party advocacy to achieve resolution.

The resolution: double or nothing?

After weeks of stonewalling from both Luggage Forward and FedEx, his bags miraculously appeared just days after my team reached out to Luggage Forward.

Coincidence? Nathan doesn’t think so.

“This resolution came just a few days after you contacted Luggage Forward, and I am not a big believer in coincidences,” Nathan wrote, expressing what many consumers learn about corporate behavior: Companies often have more problem-solving capability than they initially demonstrate.

There was just one more thing. Would Luggage Forward double his compensation, as it suggested it would? 

I asked.

A representative called me and confirmed that, yes, he would be getting twice the payout payout, based on Luggage Forward’s Double Money Back guarantee.

“This whole experience has left me shaken and, I’ll admit, less confident in my ability to advocate effectively for myself,” Nathan confided. It’s an honest admission that reflects how corporate bureaucracy can intimidate even educated, articulate consumers.

But the truth is, my team and I couldn’t have done this without Nathan. He kept a great paper trail and he kept the pressure on Luggage Forward. His case serves as a template for other consumers facing similar shipping nightmares: keep detailed records, refuse to accept blame-shifting, and don’t hesitate to escalate when companies fail to honor their commitments.

Daniel Oppliger navigated foreign airports, dealt with language barriers, and made it to his hotel in Lushui, China, only to be stumped by the TV remote at the Hilton Garden Inn.

“I couldn’t figure out how to work the television,” he says. “I had to ask the concierge to help me.”

Welcome to the age of smart hotel room syndrome, when technology designed to simplify stays actually makes them more complicated. 

This isn’t a glitch: 52 percent of hotels now offer tech walk-throughs at check-in where an employee explains how to use all the gadgets, according to a recent survey by Hotels.com. In other words, more than half of hotels have basically admitted their rooms are so complicated that guests need a tutorial just to operate basic functions.

It’s not just inexperienced guests who need help. Oppliger is a frequent traveler, who runs a travel agency in El Paso. 

Or how about Mircea Dima, a frequent hotel guest and the CEO of an educational company that specializes in coding. He’s someone who knows his way around technology. But he recently found himself Googling how to switch off his hotel room lights.

“If you need instructions to turn off a bedside lamp,” he says, “the system has failed.”

Why are hotels installing complicated room technology?

Hotels are not installing complex room control systems because they love you. The motivation runs deeper, and a little darker, than enhanced experiences.

An iPad in your room can be convenient, yes. You might be able to order a meal or a movie through it without having to make a call to the front desk. But that’s also more convenient (and profitable) for the hotel.

The tech lets hotels cut corners in other ways.

“Hotels want to appeal to guests who live with connected homes, while also managing energy use and staffing more efficiently,” says Lauren Ringel, a travel advisor with Fora Travel. “Tablets, motion sensors, and smart thermostats can make service seamless and save resources at the same time.” (Related: AI anxiety: How technology is turning travel into a trap — and what you can do about it.)

That’s not all. 

“These new electronics collect data on you,” explains Andy Abramson, a communications consultant who specializes in technology. “What you use, how much you consume, how long you sleep, even how long you spend in the bathroom.”

Put differently, the new technology saves the hotel money, increases sales and allows it to spy on you. But it’s sometimes also impossible for guests to use.

What happens when hotel room technology fails?

Ringel has seen the frustration firsthand. One client, staying at a luxury casino in Singapore, texted her at midnight because they couldn’t figure out how to dim the neon bar lights. Another guest in London was stuck with frozen iPad-controlled window shades.

“It’s not a great experience for guests,” Ringel says.

This isn’t an isolated experience. Kevin Heimlich, the CEO of an advertising firm, spent 15 minutes in a hotel room navigating iPad menus just to turn off lights after a long day. 

“It felt like a user experience design fail,” he says. “Technology should be invisible, not a puzzle that detracts from experience.”

The problem affects everyone. Al Schilf, a retired federal worker from Columbia, Md., spent five days at an upscale hotel in Rome “playing whack-a-button trying to turn lights on and off.”

TVs are the worst. You’d think someone like Vicki Burton, a retired detective from St. Petersburg, would be able to figure out how to get her hotel TV to change the channel from SpongeBob SquarePants, where it was set to when she walked into the room. But no.

“The remote resembled the cockpit of a 747,” she laughs. “I kept trying to just turn the darn thing off. Even that seemed too difficult for me.”

It’s even affected me. At a beach hotel in Phuket, Thailand, the master switch on my iPad failed to turn off a closet light. The solution from the front desk? Just close the closet door or unscrew the lightbulb. 

Thanks, guys.

What are the hidden costs of smart hotel rooms?

The tech may be saving hotels money, but it could cost you. The complicated technology doesn’t just affect the quality of your vacation, but also the quality of your sleep. If you can’t turn off the TV or the lights in your rooms, you might have to go to bed with the TV or the lights still on. And you know someone’s gonna be cranky tomorrow. 

There’s a financial cost, too. Say your hotel alarm doesn’t go off because you couldn’t figure out how to use it, and you miss your flight home. Guess who’s buying a new ticket?

Chrissy Valdez, senior director of operations at Squaremouth, says you might be tempted to file a travel insurance claim. You should resist.

“Unfortunately, travel insurance won’t be able to help you in these situations,” Valdez says.

That leaves guests to fend for themselves when systems crash or freeze, which happens more often than hotels admit.

Which hotel brands handle in-room technology best?

The good news: Some properties have found a balance. According to guests, high-end brands like Four Seasons and Rosewood typically offer clear bedside touch panels with simple backup switches. And hotel chains like Holiday Inn usually offer a more no-frills experience when it comes to gadgets. (In other words, there are actual switches to turn the lights on and off.)

But too many hotels treat technology like a status symbol. Boutique properties force every basic function through laggy touch screens. The apps sometimes crash during software updates, rendering the entire room’s systems inoperable. (Related: Don’t ban surveillance pricing. Here’s how to fix it.)

“When technology eliminates bad friction, like waiting in line to check in, everyone wins,” says Richard Valtr, founder of hotel tech company Mews. “When it eliminates ‘good friction’, meaningful human interactions, hotels become soulless.”

How can hotels fix smart room frustration?

The best hotel technology follows what industry experts call the invisibility principle: Guests shouldn’t notice they’re using it.

“The best technology in hotel rooms is often when the guest doesn’t realize they’re using it,” says David Orr, CEO of British boutique hotel chain Resident Hotels. His newest property, The Resident Edinburgh, uses energy-saving systems that automatically adjust as guests enter or leave, paired with familiar touches like simple Nespresso machines. TVs and light switches are intuitive. (Here’s everything you need to know about planning your next trip.)

Nichlas Linderborg, chief customer officer at the hospitality software company Sirvoy, agrees: “The best technology in hotels is the kind guests barely notice, because it just works.”

The smartest hotels offer both high-tech convenience and analog backups. Touch panels with physical switches. Voice controls with manual overrides. Innovation with escape hatches.

How should hotels rethink in-room technology?

Hotel technology isn’t inherently bad. When it works, smart room controls can feel magical. Motion sensors that softly light pathways to the bathroom at night. Thermostats that learn preferences. Apps that unlock room doors.

But too often, hotels put profit over function. They disable the manual light switches and offer TV remotes via touchpads that freeze. They try to focus the guest’s attention on a tablet that’s always trying to upsell them to order room service but never quite manages to do the basics, like turn off the lights or lower the volume on their TV.

That’s too bad. The hospitality industry should use technology to actually improve the guest experience, not frustrate customers. It’s not too late to fix it.

Spirit Airlines needs your help. Again.

The airline that charges you to print your boarding pass, to bring a carry-on bag on board, the one that has the audacity to sell a “bare” fare so stripped-down it barely includes the seat. Yes, that Spirit Airlines.

The troubled carrier has reportedly asked the Trump Administration for $360 million in emergency funding. Jet fuel prices have roughly doubled since the conflict in Iran began, pushing the already embattled discount airline closer to liquidation.

The government should say yes, but not without getting something in return.

We’ve been here before

This isn’t the airline industry’s first trip to the federal ATM. After Sept. 11, 2001, Congress handed carriers $5 billion in direct grants and $10 billion in loan guarantees. After COVID-19 grounded most air travel, the Payroll Support Program pushed more than $50 billion to U.S. airlines.

In exchange for that pandemic bailout, airlines agreed to maintain service levels, restrict buybacks, cap executive pay, and, crucially, eliminated most change and cancellation fees on most tickets. Air travelers benefited from it for years.

That’s the template: You want taxpayer money? Elliott’s Airline Bailout Principle says you give taxpayers something tangible.

The one concession Washington should require

Government aid to private companies should come with a public good attached, not some vague promise of preserving competition. It has to be real.

For Spirit, I’d like to propose that something: Bags should fly free.

If Spirit takes federal money, it should include the cost of one checked bag in every fare. No exceptions, no asterisks, and no “qualifying members only.” If you bought a ticket, your bag comes with it. (Related: Spirit Airlines’ death shows why we need better passenger protections.)

This may sound radical. But until last year, this was true of Southwest Airlines.

What Southwest changed

Southwest held out while every other major carrier charged for bags going back to 2008. Then, under pressure from activist investor Elliott Investment Management (no relation), it began charging for checked bags a year ago.

That decision left a gap in the market. No major U.S. carrier now includes a checked bag in its base fare. Spirit’s typical bag fee runs from $35 to $65 per checked item, depending on when you pay it. On a $70 fare to Fort Lauderdale, that doesn’t feel like a fee anymore. It’s more like a hidden fare.

Spirit could be the carrier that fills this gap. And here’s the competitive logic: In a market where every legacy carrier and every budget carrier charges separately for bags, a Spirit that doesn’t would be genuinely distinctive. It would have a reason to exist beyond being the cheapest result on Google Flights.

Should we let Spirit fail?

Yes, I know what the free-market faithful are saying. Let it fail. Let the market’s invisible hand steer it off the runway. 

Maybe. But the airline industry is not a free market. It’s a heavily regulated oligopoly running on federally funded airports, federal air traffic control, and, when things go really wrong, federal rescue packages. The free market in aviation is largely a rhetorical device deployed selectively, usually by people who’ve already collected their government subsidies.

It’s no surprise that Spirit, along with Frontier, Allegiant, Sun Country, and Avelo, recently wrote to Congress asking lawmakers to suspend the federal excise taxes on tickets, a move that would hand them a subsidy covering about one-third of the incremental cost of their higher jet fuel.

Letting Spirit disappear will just hand market share to the surviving discount airlines and the legacy carriers, who will raise prices accordingly. The passengers who actually need cheap fares—the ones Spirit was built to serve—will lose.

Spirit has already burned through one bankruptcy and is navigating a second one. Liquidation is a real possibility now. Losing Spirit, with fuel prices at these levels, would be a gift to every airline that’s still charging $45 to put a bag in the overhead bin.

What a real deal looks like

So here’s my proposal: Spirit gets a low-interest emergency loan. It repays it with interest, the way airlines did after 9/11. The government takes warrants in return, so taxpayers share the upside if Spirit recovers. And Spirit commits to including one checked bag in every fare for a minimum of five years.

Five years is long enough to matter and long enough to reshape customer expectations. And it’s long enough to make other carriers nervous.

Other airlines would protest. Good. Competition is supposed to be uncomfortable.

And the next time a carrier comes to Washington with its hat in hand, maybe lawmakers should ask the big question raised by Elliott’s Airline Bailout Principle: What are passengers going to get out of this?

If we’re carrying Spirit’s debt, Spirit can carry our bags.

The “base” fare you see on a travel site has always been a half-truth, at best. By the time you reach the final payment screen, government taxes and fees have bloated the price by 10 percent or more, and that’s not including all those baggage fees and other optional charges. 

Now, the airlines that pride themselves on being “low-cost” are heading to Washington with their hands out, asking for a break from some of those extras.

Why budget airlines want a tax holiday

The Association of Value Airlines, which represents Spirit, Frontier, and Allegiant, claim the current jet fuel crisis is a threat to their business model. This week, they met with Transportation Secretary Sean Duffy to plead for a temporary tax holiday. 

The discount airlines are spooked by surging energy costs. Oil prices doubled after the outbreak of the Iran war. For an airline like Spirit, which is already struggling to stay out of bankruptcy, these could be the closing credits.

The airlines are asking Congress to suspend two major taxes:

• The 7.5 percent federal excise tax on all domestic airline tickets.
• The $5.30 per-segment tax that hits travelers every time they take off.

The Association of Value Airlines argues that waiving these fees would offset about one-third of the extra costs it’s eating because of fuel prices. Without relief, it warns that travelers will face even higher fares and more baggage fees. (Here is everything you need to know before booking your next airline ticket.)

Fuel is the biggest single cost in an airline’s operation, and for discount carriers built on razor-thin margins, a prolonged price shock hits them differently than it does a legacy carrier, which has more pricing flexibility and hedging programs. Exempting them from jet fuel taxes for some defined period isn’t unprecedented. Plenty of industries have gotten targeted relief during supply disruptions.

But here’s where it gets interesting: If Congress hands the airlines a tax break, should any of those savings flow to passengers? Because right now, every time you buy a domestic ticket, you’re paying a pile of federal and state fees that have nothing to do with the seat price.

Maybe travelers need a tax break, too

Take a closer look at the taxes on a typical domestic ticket. On a $369 roundtrip fare (that’s the current U.S. average), roughly $47 goes to mandatory taxes and fees, and that’s before you’ve bought a bag or picked a seat. It inflates the cost of your ticket by about 13 percent over the advertised price.

(The federal jet fuel tax of $0.219 per gallon goes to the airline’s bottom line. Passengers do not see that line on their receipt. But the 7.5 percent excise tax does show up in your fare, and any airline lobbying for fuel relief would be collecting that from you, potentially without passing any savings down to you.)

Why airlines say they need tax relief

Airlines argue they need every dollar of relief to stay solvent. They say targeted relief during supply disruptions is not unprecedented and is necessary to prevent route cuts and price spikes. By suspending these taxes, the government could help preserve competition in a market dominated by legacy carriers. (Related: So long, Spirit Airlines. Should the government have saved you?)

Travelers could use some tax relief, too. Imagine getting rid of that pesky 9/11 Security Fee? Or the Passenger Facility Charge? Unfortunately, passenger rights groups are not lining up in front of the DOT office in Washington to ask for a tax holiday. But maybe they should. Lower airline ticket prices would go a long way to help during the jet fuel crisis.

Do airlines deserve a tax break?

If you voted “Yes”:

• Should the tax savings be passed directly to you in the form of lower fares?
• Are you worried that if these budget airlines don’t get help, they’ll simply disappear?
• Is a temporary bailout better than losing competition in the skies?

If you voted “No”:

• Do you think it’s fair to bail out the airlines while passengers continue to pay record-high fees?
• Should airlines be forced to use their own hedging programs instead of asking for government help?
• Do you believe the savings would just go to shareholders instead of travelers?

If Congress suspends fuel-related taxes for carriers, should it require a corresponding passenger fare reduction, or at least a temporary suspension of the 7.5 percent excise tax on tickets? 

Airlines will argue they need every dollar of relief to stay solvent. Passengers would push back that the whole premise of discount carriers is cheap fares, and passing fuel savings to shareholders while charging passengers $119 for a $89 seat undercuts that argument entirely.

My take: When times are good, airlines pocket the profits and invent new fees. When fuel prices spike, they run to the government for a handout. If the government waives the 7.5 percent excise tax, it shouldn’t be a gift to Spirit or Frontier. It should be a permanent discount for the person actually paying the bill: you. Anything else is just a corporate subsidy disguised as traveler relief.

Your turn

What’s your move? Are you willing to let the airlines keep the tax money if it means they stay in business, or is it time for the government to stop playing favorites? Join the discussion in the comments.

Southwestern Germany’s Palatinate region is dotted with over 130 castles, many now ruins. Perched on sandstone cliffs, they’ve borne witness to centuries of history. 

One, Hambach Castle, played a pivotal role in Germany’s democratic movement in 1832, while another, Trifels, housed medieval emperors and even imprisoned Richard the Lionheart. 

But don’t let the fairytale landscape fool you. Palatinate also has one foot in the future, and if you visit this part of Germany, you get to be a part of it. It’s a vision of tomorrow that combines a rich and complex history with a meticulous pursuit of sustainability.

An orchard along the “New Shepherds’ Trails,” a project that reintroduces traditional grazing with sheep and goats to prevent old orchards and valleys from being swallowed by forest. (Photo by Aren Elliott.)

History and sustainability meet here

Palatinate is home to Germany’s largest contiguous forest, covering about 80 percent of its surface. This expansive woodland, part of the Palatinate Forest–Northern Vosges Biosphere Reserve, is more than a natural wonder. It’s also Germany’s only cross-border UNESCO biosphere reserve, and a model project for sustainability. 

Here, the goal is clear: balance the needs of mankind with the health of the environment, teaching people to “act and react more sustainably,” according to local guide Ute Seitz.

“Sustainability,” she explained, using the German word Nachhaltigkeit, “comes from their thinking and from their planning for the future.” 

Foresters developed this concept over 150 years ago, establishing the principle that you aren’t allowed to take more wood out of a forest per year than the forest can produce.  It’s a simple, profound idea, and perhaps one the world needs today more than ever. Don’t consume more than you produce.

Ripening grapes on a vineyard in Germany’s Palatinate region. (Photo by Aren Elliott.)

A Mediterranean microclimate responds to global warming

Palatinate’s unique microclimate, often compared to the Mediterranean, means you’ll spot fig trees, kiwi, and even bananas growing and thriving outdoors, a sight that surprises many visitors. But this pleasant warmth also brings challenges. 

Seitz says temperatures here are rising quickly, leading to a series of problems. One of them is overpopulation of wild boars. Warmer winters reduce the natural mortality rate for the boars. These animals, which are clever and can’t be hunted in the protected core zones, emerge at night to devour roots and almost anything else they can find to eat. The boars disrupt a delicate balance that the reserve strives to maintain.

The biosphere reserve is structured into core, maintenance, and development zones, each with specific rules to safeguard biodiversity and promote sustainable practices. (Related: How the Sydney Opera House became a symbol of sustainability.)

One fascinating initiative is the “New Shepherds’ Trails,” a project that reintroduces traditional grazing with sheep and goats to prevent old orchards and valleys from being swallowed by forest. 

“The cattle don’t eat everything,” Seitz says, “especially not the blackberries. So, that’s why the goats are here.” 

It’s not just for aesthetics. It’s about maintaining cold air corridors that flow from the mountains to the valley, crucial for cooling down areas like Landau and the Rhine Valley that overheat during the summer.

Even the region’s renowned viticulture, a source of famous Riesling and Pinot Noir grape varieties, is evolving. Vintners are now being encouraged to plant fungus-resistant grapevine varieties, which can reduce the use of pesticides, especially fungicides, by up to 80 percent. It’s a significant step, even if consumer preference for traditional varieties means adoption isn’t as fast as some would hope.

But the pursuit of sustainability here isn’t just about grand ecological projects. It seeps into the local economy, inspiring entrepreneurs to reconnect with the land and its resources in profound ways.

Timo Keller, owner of the Wasgau Ölmühle in Hauenstein, Germany. (Photo by Aren Elliott.)

Wasgau Ölmühle: crafting purity, one cold press at a time

In the nearby village of Hauenstein, small businesses are also writing the next chapter in Palatinate’s sustainability story. At the Wasgau Ölmühle (oil mill) in Hauenstein, owner Timo Keller is refining the art of cold-pressed oils.

Keller, an engineer by training, says refined oils are chemically extracted and then cleaned, a process that strips them of some healing qualities. His method, by contrast, involves applying high pressure on the seed to squeeze the oil in a more natural process. 

“You have to use the best raw material if you want to get the best oil,” he explained.

Keller says 80 percent of the oil used in Germany is refined. He sees it as his mission to educate people about the profound difference between “oil and oil.” Or, to put it differently, not all oils are created the same.

That, they definitely aren’t. The öhlmühle produces a range of oils, from common rapeseed and sunflower to specialty linseed and walnut oils. But the undisputed star (a true “miracle oil,” according to Keller) is its black cumin seed oil (Nigella sativa). Among its claimed health benefits: combating diabetes, inflammation, and allergies, and even supporting liver and kidney health, he says.

Keller shared a story of a customer who was hospitalized four times with high inflammation and fever, receiving antibiotics without a clear diagnosis. After hearing about black cumin seed oil, he began taking it daily. 

“One day later, the fever was gone,” Keller recounted. “And he never had problems again.”

One of Keller’s innovations was adjusting the strong, bitter taste of black cumin seed oil. His daughter discovered that cherry juice improved the taste, and he later found that by pressing orange rind together with the black seeds, he could create an oil with a harmonious, slightly citrusy flavor.

Whether or not you believe the health claims, one thing you can be certain of is that the oils are being processed in a sustainable way. Keller tries to source the seeds as locally as possible. While some seeds, like black cumin, are currently imported from Egypt, he’s diligently working to motivate farmers to cultivate the imported seeds in Germany. He anticipates that German-grown seeds will soon account for 10 to 20 percent of their production.

And nothing goes to waste at the mill. The leftover press cake that remains after the oil has been extracted isn’t discarded. Press cake from nuts, walnuts, cashews, almonds, and linseed gets repurposed into food because it’s high in proteins and low in carbs. This by-product becomes a valuable ingredient for those on low-carb or keto diets. It’s a remarkable example of the circular economy in action, turning what might be waste into a healthy resource.

As more travelers look for wellness on their vacations, places like the mill are becoming increasingly attractive destinations.

Sustainability as a way of life

The Palatinate, with its ancient ruins looming over a landscape shaped by nature and human ingenuity, is a destination where sustainability is more than a buzzword. From the biosphere reserve’s efforts to preserve overgrown orchards with grazing animals and introduce fungus-resistant grapevines, to the Wasgau Ölmühle’s dedication to producing cold-pressed oils and educating consumers, this part of Germany is relentlessly pursuing all things green.

But the destination is the journey here. And it’s an adventure fraught with challenges like climate change and the complexities of land management. The commitment is unmistakable. It’s in the quiet work of Seitz, explaining the nuances of ecological balance, and in Keller’s passionate advocacy for oils. The Palatinate may not be synonymous with sustainability yet, but it’s definitely on its way.