Don’t look now, but summer travel intent has hit its lowest point since the pandemic because of rising travel costs. It’s affecting some travelers more than others, and that’s a story you won’t hear anywhere else.

Deloitte’s latest summer travel survey has the numbers: Only 45 percent of travelers surveyed are planning a summer vacation with paid lodging this year, the lowest number in six years.

Travel is down across every income bracket, but the drop among households earning under $100,000 is twice as steep as the decline among middle and high-income earners, an 8-point drop versus 4 points each.

But the travelers who are still going plan to spend $4,069 on their summer vacations, up 17 percent from last year.

In other words, the rich are going on vacation and spending more; the not-so-rich, well, not so much.

Is this the beginning of the end of the American summer vacation?

When it comes to vacations, there’s always been a class divide. One half takes a road trip, the other a luxury cruise. One goes camping, the other glamping. Nothing wrong with that.

But when one half stops traveling entirely, that’s a problem. And not just for the travel industry, which is watching one of its most important markets ground itself. This also affects travelers themselves, who miss out on an essential summer ritual that lets them recharge their batteries and spend time with friends and family.

If this trend continues, with the “haves” taking ever-pricier summer vacations and the “have-nots” staying home, it would be bad for everyone. Affordable travel is one of the backbones of the American travel experience.

What’s happening is obvious. Yes, economic worries are keeping people from taking a trip, but the biggest economic deterrent is the price of a vacation. Higher energy costs and a relentless need to increase shareholder value have pushed rates and fares higher, beyond the reach of the average traveler.

What the travel industry says about rising vacation costs

Hotels and airlines argue that high-net-worth travelers want longer stays, full-service properties, and elevated amenities, and that catering to those customers funds investment in service standards and infrastructure. 

Deloitte’s broader 2026 outlook calls it a “bifurcation” of standard and luxury and frames competition for the high-spending traveler as one of the year’s defining trends. The official line is that this is modernization, not abandonment. 

But the travel industry may regret this restructuring. The value travel segment is a vital part of the travel ecosystem, and turning your back on it could be disastrous.

How to find affordable summer travel deals

The good news is that the same forces hollowing out the market are creating cracks you can travel through. 

Travelers earning between $100,000 and $199,000 are showing the biggest booking gap, with 37 percent fully booked versus 45 percent last year. That’s a lot of empty inventory in late May, and revenue managers know it.

But you won’t see those cuts on Expedia. The big booking sites are designed to protect rate parity for their hotel partners, and the airlines have learned to hide their distressed inventory. The deals are out there, they’re just moving through different doors this year.

Four things can land you a deal that’s more than affordable this summer: 

Call the hotel directly.  Skip the 800 number. Ask the manager on duty what they can do that the website can’t—maybe a 15 to 25 percent midweek discount with parking included. 

Wait longer than feels comfortable. Since the squeeze on suppliers gets worse as the season drags on, good things come to those who wait.

Find the small operator. Family-run inns, independent guides, owner-operated charters. Most will negotiate by email. 

Also, consider a road trip. Driving vacations are off to a strong start this weekend, but research suggests they’ll taper off as the summer gets underway. Planned road trips are down to 66 percent of travelers, from 71 percent last year, which means a lot of Americans have written off driving. That’s an opportunity for a more affordable summer vacation.

And now, the poll

That brings us to this week’s question.

And a few follow-up questions:

If you said yes:

• Did you book through a major site, or did you go direct to the property?
• Are you spending more, less, or about the same as last summer?

If you said no:

• Was it the airfare, the lodging, or the total trip cost that pushed you out?
• Would a 20 percent discount on lodging change your mind, or are you done with the math entirely?

My take: The industry has picked its customer, and it isn’t the family in the minivan. I’m not bothered by the luxury part. It’s the abandonment of the middle class, and the way the industry has stopped pretending to care.

Your turn

Is the middle-class family vacation finished, or have you found a way around the pricing wall this summer? Tell me in the comments.

Anders Lendager is contemplating the practicalities of a new 20-story skyscraper in Aarhus, Denmark.

And this one is all about practicality. It’s not just any skyscraper. This one, built last year in the port district of Sydhavnen, is made of wood and recycled material. In fact, it is Denmark’s tallest wooden building.

TRÆ is Lendager’s creation, inspired by the climate crisis and years of pushing the limits of what you can, and can’t, reuse in a building.

“We wanted to show what is possible,” says Lendager, who runs his eponymous Danish-Icelandic architecture firm.

Lendager’s creation, and indeed, Aarhus itself, is a powerful reminder that the world we live in is a finite resource.

Denmark’s second city has moved beyond aspirational climate goals. It has internalized the Nordic sensibility that security, safety, and high quality of life are inseparable from environmental integrity. 

How Aarhus is becoming a sustainable tourist destination

Here are some of the city’s sustainability highlights:

Climate target: The overriding objective of the climate plan is achieving carbon neutrality by 2030.

Energy transition: The city phased out coal energy a decade ago and is switching to geothermal heating.

Waste as a resource: Waste is integrated into the city’s energy supply, with the municipal incinerator facility burning around 42 percent of collected waste to produce electricity and warm water, supplying 16 percent of the heat consumed by the district heating system. Only about 2 percent of waste ends up as landfill.

Green shipping incentives: The Port of Aarhus established Denmark’s first shore power facility for cruise ships in 2023, allowing docked ships to connect to green electricity from Danish wind turbines.

But to really see how sustainable Aarhus has become, you have to visit. This region offers everything from climate-change-proof streets to back-to-nature accommodations. And its sustainability leaders have an important message for anyone who will listen.

Integrating history and climate adaptation in Randers

An artificial lake in Randers, part of the city’s ambitious rainwater management system. (Photo by Aren Elliott.)

It turns out the Aarhus region has a rich history of sustainability. In nearby Randers, a town that showcases 400-year-old half-timbered houses, cobblestone streets and factories turned into cafés, sustainability has been built directly into the streets. 

“Randers has developed sophisticated rainwater management systems,” explains Kristiina Hansen-Götze, a city guide.

Why? Randers has adapted to climate change, which projects more intense rainfall and rising sea levels. The new systems, built over the last decade, are designed to work with, not against, the rising tide. 

Hansen-Götze emphasized that they intentionally designed them so that the solutions don’t look like something made to prevent flooding. She says so far, the new drainage system, which is still being tested, has worked well by protecting the town from potentially devastating floods even during heavy rains. 

For visitors, this means they can enjoy Randers’ gift shops, restaurants and cafés without having to wade through puddles. In the long term, it will also ensure the city doesn’t wash away.

“And the system looks beautiful, like it was always meant to be here,” she adds.

That sense of form and function extends to the region’s hotels.

The premium of Nordic wellness and culture

Jesper Buus, a district director for Scandic Hotels, on the construction site of Bassin Seven, his newest hotel. (Photo by Aren Elliott.)

This focus on core values like safety, health, and the environment has become the foundation of the local tourism and hospitality sector, allowing it to command a premium internationally. Anne Hübner, a spokeswoman for Visit Aarhus, says the city’s quality of life is driven by security, safety, and trust, values that score highly on the happiest citizens index.

“It’s one of the reasons people want to visit Aarhus, to experience this for themselves,” she says.

Scandic Hotels, one of the largest hotel chains in the region, is capitalizing on this expectation. Jesper Buus, a district director of Scandic, says that the chain, including the Scandic Aarhus City, has doubled down on the service and amenities people expect from a Nordic hotel. Almost all Scandic hotels meet the Nordic Swan Ecolabel’s standards for energy efficiency, water consumption and waste management.

“Sustainability is such an integrated part of Scandic that we sometimes take what we do for granted,” he admits. Recycling, solar panels, and even on-site beehives were all incorporated into the hotel’s design.

Buus says one of the misconceptions about sustainability is that it means guests have to sacrifice service or amenities. But they don’t here, and there may be no better answer than Scandic’s latest project, a new Signature-branded hotel called Bassin Seven currently under construction near Aarhus’ port.

Buus says the new hotel structure reflects the changing demands of travelers who want a wellness experience, and will feature a large spa that, true to Scandic’s other hotels, will be true to its Nordic values.

He says the understated experience, modern architecture with light wood and a minimalist sensibility along with a line of authentic local experiences, is in high demand. It is just one part of the sustainability puzzle in Aarhus. But to get another perspective from the hospitality industry, you have to drive into one of Denmark’s famous national parks.

Authentic disconnection in Mols Bjerge

A yurt in Mols Bjerge National Park. (Photo by Aren Elliott.)

The dedication to authentic environmental practice reaches deep into the idyllic Danish countryside. In the rural setting of Mols Bjerge National Park, Bjørn Haugum operates a glamping site using yurts that capture the concept of friluftsliv, or living outdoors.

Haugum’s philosophy emphasizes simple living, returning to the “basics of life” by focusing on sleeping, physical activity, foraging for food, and keeping warm. But to ensure guests truly disconnect and reflect, Haugum has introduced deliberate friction.

Guests have to park in a public parking spot about a half mile away and walk to their yurt, packing only necessary supplies. This enforced slowdown ensures they are prepared for an outdoor adventure and pack only what they need.

The actual accommodations are simple yurts with open fireplaces that push guests to disconnect from their electronic devices and reconnect with each other, and nature itself.

“We actually don’t use terms like carbon-neutral when we describe what we do, because there’s been so much greenwashing,” Haugum adds. “We’d rather walk the walk. We want to inspire people, not lecture to them about their environmental commitments.”

The operation supports local communities by sourcing from nearby producers, such as buying fruit wines from local vendors. Haugum and his wife say they want to keep this project small and exclusive, focusing on guests who share their vision of living outdoors.

But Haugum says he wants to add one more thing to his property. The rolling hills of northern Denmark may have inspired J.R.R. Tolkien when he wrote The Hobbit, and Haugum would like to build a Hobbit house on his property. He hopes to reach the Tolkien tourists who come to this area with his message of friluftsliv.

“We probably won’t be able to call it a Hobbit house, because of copyright issues,” he says. “But it will be great.”

One thing is certain: A Hobbit house will be the ultimate green accommodation. But it won’t be the only one.

The architect who made trash a commodity

Lendager, the architect who built the wooden high-rise in Aarhus, is on a mission to change the way people build in Denmark. He says architects must learn to design within their limits, and that means viewing discarded materials as valuable assets. He hopes TRÆ can show others that this philosophy is financially robust, scalable, and, most importantly, sustainable.

Lendager recalls that the client, a large pension fund, initially sought to compensate tenants for the risk associated with innovation by reducing rent to 1.5 percent below the market rate.

The project drew so much attention that the client instead went the other way, adding 25 percent to the rent prices. 

“It’s priced like a premium product,” he says.

Demand was overwhelming.

“Everything was leased out before we started building,” he says.

What’s the appeal? Well, almost everything is sustainable. Lendager collected the aluminum panels cladding the exterior from several sources, including farms, old mailboxes and the roof of a demolished building. 

Lendager detailed the startling economic impact: The panels cost just $10,000 for the whole building, which he estimated was approximately dramatically cheaper than using traditional materials.

The hardest part of the project was the solar shades for the building, which are made from the fiberglass of discarded wind turbine blades. Upon reaching the end of their service life, these blades typically end up in landfills. By developing a process to cut these composites into building elements, Lendager’s company slashed the project’s carbon dioxide footprint when compared to using an aluminum or motorized system.

For Lendager, this innovative sourcing means that design should follow availability, not form. 

“Architecture is moving away from temples that manifest man’s dominance over nature and toward structures that are more cooperative and show gratitude to Earth,” he says.

A long-term investment in sustainability

The sustainable narrative emerging from Aarhus isn’t one of sacrifice or mandated austerity. It’s a pragmatic recognition that high quality of life, from the integrity of the architecture you inhabit to the water you drink and the nature you enjoy, is a premium product that requires long-term investment.

The goal here isn’t simply to avoid environmental disaster; it’s to build a desirable, higher-value reality. 

It is not an easy path, and it is not cheap. Denmark’s sustainability investments are supported by the country’s high taxes, and Aarhus is by no means a bargain destination. But if you want to see a region that is transforming itself into a truly sustainable destination, there may be no better place in the world to visit. For other destinations, a sustainable path may be an attractive way forward, but for Aarhus, it is the only way.

Sharon McMonagle orders $1,176 in club seats for a Lumineers concert, but StubHub sends her tickets for seats in a completely different section the day before the show. The company promises a refund, then reverses course and refuses to pay. Can she get her money back?

Question

I bought four tickets to see The Lumineers in concert for $1,176 a few months ago. I specifically ordered club section seats through StubHub. But something felt wrong immediately. The confirmation email didn’t include any seat numbers, which seemed suspicious. I disputed the charge with my credit card company, but because the concert wasn’t scheduled for a few months, my credit card denied my dispute.

Fast forward to the day before the concert. StubHub finally sent me four tickets. But they were in a completely different section, with no club access whatsoever. I called customer service right away. The agent told me there were no alternative tickets available.

Here’s where it gets complicated: StubHub asked me to accept the wrong tickets and then transfer them back. I told the agent I was in a no-win situation. If I accepted the tickets, StubHub would consider them mine and I’d be stuck with them. The agent seemed to understand my concern and told me to send a screenshot proving I hadn’t accepted the tickets, which I did.

Then I received an email from StubHub saying it would help me with a refund. I thought the problem was solved. But when I called back the following week, a StubHub representative said they had 45 days to process my refund. After waiting the full 45 days with no refund, I called again. This time, a customer service representative told me that since I hadn’t returned the tickets, I wouldn’t get a refund.

I explained that I’d followed the agent’s instructions and sent the screenshot. But StubHub suddenly claimed I should have followed different return instructions from an earlier email that told me to transfer the tickets back from my Ticketmaster account. The problem? I never accepted the tickets into my Ticketmaster account in the first place, so there was nothing to transfer back. The whole situation feels like a carefully designed trap.

StubHub advertises its FanProtect Guarantee, which promises buyers will receive the tickets they ordered or comparable replacements, or get a full refund. I got none of those things. Can you help me get my $1,176 back? — Sharon McMonagle, Louisville, Colo.

Answer

StubHub should have refunded your money immediately, as promised. 

Its FanProtect Guarantee is crystal clear. If you don’t receive the tickets you ordered, the company promises comparable replacements or will issue a full refund. You ordered club section seats. You received tickets to a completely different section. 

StubHub created the confusion here. Its customer service agents gave you conflicting instructions about how to return the tickets. One agent told you to send a screenshot proving you hadn’t accepted them. Another email said you needed to transfer tickets back through Ticketmaster — tickets you never accepted in the first place. Then a third representative promised you a refund. No wonder you were confused.

You did almost everything right. You contacted StubHub immediately when you realized something was wrong with your order. You called customer service the day before the concert when you received the wrong tickets. You followed the agent’s instructions and sent the requested screenshot. You kept excellent records of every interaction.

I say “almost” because I wouldn’t have filed a credit card dispute. There was no way to know if the transaction was fraudulent until the day of the show. (Related: StubHub FanProtect guarantee failed. Here’s how one buyer fought back.)

I would have also escalated your complaint to a StubHub executive sooner. I publish a list of StubHub executive contacts on my consumer advocacy site, Elliott.org. A brief, polite email to one of these executives with your paper trail attached often cuts through the customer service red tape.

This isn’t the first time I’ve seen StubHub’s ticket return process trap consumers in an impossible situation. I recently helped another reader who received tickets for the wrong date to a Taylor Swift concert. And I’ve mediated several cases where StubHub’s FanProtect Guarantee didn’t protect fans.

StubHub’s return process needs to be simpler and more transparent. When a company sends you the wrong tickets, you shouldn’t need a consumer advocate to get your money back. The FanProtect Guarantee should protect you automatically — not after weeks of calls and emails.

Here’s my advice for anyone buying tickets through a resale marketplace: Document everything. Save every email. Take screenshots of your order confirmation and any tickets you receive. If something goes wrong, contact customer service immediately and follow up in writing. And if the company refuses to honor its guarantee, don’t wait 45 days. Escalate to an executive contact right away.

I contacted StubHub on your behalf. The company acknowledged its communication created confusion about next steps.

“We regret the challenges Ms. McMonagle experienced with her ticket order,” a StubHub spokeswoman told me. “Our FanProtect Guarantee ensures buyers receive the tickets they ordered or comparable replacements, or receive a full refund. In this case, the tickets provided did not match what was purchased, and our communication created confusion about next steps.” 

StubHub issued a full refund along with a 25 percent voucher toward a future purchase. 

A duplicate reservation on a Sky Express flight disrupts a Cleveland couple’s return from Greece. Delta cancels and rebooks their flights, leaving them scrambling for tickets, luggage, and connections—and facing an unexpected charge.

Question

My wife and I recently flew from Cleveland to Athens. Our return flights from Thessaloniki to Cleveland were booked through Delta, but the first leg of our return flight was on Sky Express, a regional airline.

When we tried to check in online for our Sky Express flight from Thessaloniki to Athens, we were blocked because of a 185 euro balance linked to a third passenger with my name — an obvious error. Sky Express refused to correct the mistake and told us Delta had to fix it.

We called Delta reservations. The agent canceled the original Sky Express flight and rebooked a new segment from Thessaloniki to Athens. But that also caused our return flight from Athens to Cleveland to be canceled. We had to pick up our luggage in Athens and rebook our flights home.

We had to pay $435 for a new reservation on Aegean Air to Athens. Delta promised a refund for the canceled flight plus 12 euros for seat assignments, but then denied our claim. We are seeking the refund originally promised by Delta. — Robert Kempke, Rocky River, Ohio

Answer

Your experience shows how quickly a minor airline error can snowball into a full-blown travel nightmare. 

It looks like there was a duplicate passenger entry which the airline’s system flagged. That prevented you from checking in online, ultimately invalidating the entire reservation and forcing you to book a new Sky Express segment. But that also broke your original itinerary, leading to the cancellation of your Delta flight home. You had to buy a new ticket from Thessaloniki to Athens and you had to pick up your luggage in Athens and recheck it for your return flight to the U.S. What a headache!

You documented everything — the receipts, seat assignment fees, call notes, and Delta’s denial of your claim. This paper trail was essential in resolving the dispute. (Related: He accepted a $15,000 offer to give up his seat. Then Delta called him a liar.)

It also helps to know your rights. Under U.S. Department of Transportation rules, passengers are entitled to automatic and prompt refunds for flights canceled by the airline, and European Union Regulation 261/2004 applies to flights within or departing the EU. Knowing these protections gives you leverage when requesting reimbursement.

How did this error happen? Somehow, Sky Express booked two tickets for you on one leg of your return journey. I would have recommended confirming your flight before you left, but you did that and Delta indicated you were all set. There was no way to know about this trouble before you arrived in Greece.

One thing is clear: If Delta promised a refund it should have made good on its offer. When an airline goes back on its word, you have options, including an appeal to a Delta executive. (I list their names, numbers and emails on my consumer advocacy site, Elliott.org)

I contacted the airline on your behalf. Delta’s Customer Care team reviewed your case and reimbursed the full amount for the canceled Sky Express segment, honoring the refund originally promised. While the transaction was handled poorly, your diligence and documentation made a successful outcome possible.

When Shiri Willcot’s travel agent tried to book a flight for her 13-year-old daughter Ryan from Los Angeles to Costa Rica with a connection in Houston, the reservation system said no.

United Airlines doesn’t allow unaccompanied minors on connecting flights. Full stop. It’s right there in the policy: children ages 5 to 14 traveling alone can only fly nonstop.

But then something unusual happened: A United supervisor intervened during the initial booking process, overrode the system, and approved the reservation. The airline even charged Willcot’s credit card the $300 unaccompanied minor fee. 

And just two days before the flight, a United representative confirmed on a recorded call that Ryan “would have no problem boarding.”

But two days later, at the ticket counter at Los Angeles International Airport, there was a problem.

United agents refused to let Ryan board. “They wouldn’t even look up the flight,” Willcot says. “They just kept saying she shouldn’t have been booked on a connecting flight.”

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

• Can airlines authorize exceptions to their own policies, then deny passengers at the gate based on those same policies?
• What documentation proves a passenger has been wrongfully denied boarding when the airline claims no record exists?
• Who’s responsible when a travel agent obtains verbal authorization from an airline, but the airline later disputes it happened?

But let’s get back to the flight that wasn’t, and the poor teenager left stranded at LAX.

How did this happen?

Here’s the backstory: Willcot had been planning a family vacation to Costa Rica. The itinerary seemed straightforward: Ryan would fly from LAX to Houston, where Willcot would meet her, and they’d continue together to San Jose, Costa Rica.

But not so fast. United’s unaccompanied minor program prohibits connecting flights for children under 15 traveling alone. The system simply wouldn’t process Ryan’s booking.

“I just spoke with United and they manually configured United’s flights for us,” Ryan Gomez, one of Willcot’s travel agents at RZRV Travel, wrote in an email to Willcot immediately after completing the booking. “Usually, they don’t allow indirect flights (connections) for minors, so they had to get authorization for us.”

The booking went through. United issued a confirmation. The airline charged her credit card a $300 unaccompanied minor fee.

Everything appeared in order.

“We followed up with United on two additional occasions prior to travel to reconfirm there would be no issue, and were assured the booking was valid,” RZRV Travel later confirmed in a written statement. “Notes were also added to the reservation during those calls.”

The last call, confirming her daughter could board the flight, was recorded by her. (You know, for quality assurance purposes.)

The trip that required a supervisor override

United’s denial of boarding set off a cascade of problems. Ryan’s father, who’d taken her to the airport, couldn’t get her a replacement ticket on the same flight. Willcot ended up purchasing a one-way ticket for Ryan to fly alone from Los Angeles to Costa Rica a day later.

When Willcot tried to get answers from United, things got stranger. Customer service representatives told her their system showed only a one-way return ticket, but no record of the original outbound flight and no record of the denial at LAX.  (Related: Oh no! United Airlines changed our flight, and now we can’t make our connection.)

It was as if the whole thing had never happened.

Except Willcot had the confirmation emails. She had the $300 charge on her credit card statement. She had screenshots of her travel agent’s chats with United. And she even had a recorded call assuring her that her daughter could board the flight.

United’s written responses came next, each one contradicting the last. 

First, the airline said the travel agency had booked against policy without authorization. Then it claimed no supervisor would have approved the itinerary. Later, a United representative left Willcot a voicemail admitting one explanation was “wrong” and promising a corrected version. 

Can airlines authorize exceptions to their own policies, then reverse them?

United’s unaccompanied minor policy is unambiguous: children 5 to 14 must travel on nonstop flights only. No connections, no exceptions.

Except when there are exceptions.

Airlines do make policy overrides. They’re called supervisor approvals for a reason. Gate agents can’t authorize them, but managers and supervisors can. It happens when a passenger has a compelling reason, when circumstances are unusual, or when the airline determines the standard rule shouldn’t apply.

In Ryan’s case, the circumstances were specific: her mother would be arriving in Houston on a separate flight before Ryan’s connection to Costa Rica departed. United’s own policy states that unaccompanied minors must “be met by another parent, legal guardian, or responsible adult upon deplaning at the final destination.” 

Willcot would be there, eliminating the unaccompanied part of the connection.

The travel agents couldn’t have completed the booking without United’s intervention. When you try to book an unaccompanied minor on a connecting flight through United’s website, the system displays “N/A” for all dates.

“It is not possible to book an unaccompanied minor with a layover through United’s system,” RZRV Travel confirmed. “A United representative placed us on hold, consulted a supervisor, and then confirmed that they could override the system and book the flight over the phone for us. Without that override, the reservation could not have been issued.”

So what happened? Did United authorize the booking or not?

According to United’s contract of carriage, “no employee or agent of UA has the authority to alter, modify, or waive any fare rules or any provision of the Contract of Carriage unless authorized by a corporate officer of UA.”

That’s the airline’s position. No corporate officer authorized Ryan’s travel on a connecting flight, United claims, therefore no valid exception existed.

But if no authorization existed, how did the ticket get issued? How did the $300 unaccompanied minor fee get charged? How did three separate United representatives — including one on a recorded call two days before departure — confirm Ryan could fly?

The answer appears to be that someone at United did authorize it. The airline just doesn’t want to admit it.

What documentation proves wrongful denial when the airline has no record?

Here’s where Willcot’s case gets a little strange. For a full month after the LAX denial, United claimed to have no record of Ryan’s original flight.

When Willcot contacted customer service through the online portal, a representative reviewed the account. 

“Our records show only a one-way return ticket,” he told her. No outbound flight from LAX to Houston. No connection to Costa Rica. And no denial at the airport.

Willcot sent screenshots of the booking confirmation. She sent the credit card statement showing the $300 unaccompanied minor charge. She sent call logs from her travel agents. 

United’s response: Sorry, we don’t see it in our system.

This is where things get difficult for passengers. Airlines control the records and their own reservation systems. They control what’s documented and what isn’t. If an airline says something didn’t happen, and its system shows no record, how does a passenger prove otherwise?

Willcot had documentation, but it wasn’t enough. Email confirmations can be dismissed. Credit card charges prove payment but not authorization. Call logs show a conversation occurred, not what was said.

The recorded call was Willcot’s strongest evidence, but United never acknowledged it. The airline’s written responses repeatedly stated that no United representative “would have been authorized” to confirm Ryan could travel on connecting flights. Whether one actually did was irrelevant, according to United’s airline logic.

A few weeks later, Willcot sent a formal demand letter to United, requesting $20,000 in compensation. 

And just when you think things couldn’t get any stranger, they do. A manager sent another response after Willcot filed a complaint with the Department of Transportation, contradicting the first one. The United rep even left a voicemail saying to disregard the earlier email because it was “wrong.”

Within a month, United had decided on its final narrative: the travel agency booked against policy, no authorization was given, and the airline’s denial at LAX was appropriate.

“The customer’s travel agency booked an unaccompanied 13-year-old child on an itinerary with a connecting flight, which is not permitted under our unaccompanied minor policy,” United told my team after we asked about this case.

But there was one more twist.

Who’s responsible when verbal authorization later gets disputed?

A few weeks later, United provided additional context to my advocacy team: Willcot’s flight from Portland to Houston had been delayed. She wouldn’t have arrived before Ryan’s connecting flight, United claimed, violating the requirement that an adult meet the unaccompanied minor upon deplaning.

This was the first time anyone had mentioned a delay.

According to United, Willcot’s flight delay registration showed at 10:01 p.m. Pacific time — right around when Ryan was checking in at LAX. The initial delay projection showed Willcot arriving 15 minutes after Ryan’s scheduled arrival in Houston.

If true, this would potentially justify United’s denial. The airline’s unaccompanied minor policy requires an adult to be “at the gate 30 minutes before their arrival time.” If Willcot couldn’t be there, Ryan couldn’t fly as an unaccompanied minor.

Except the timing doesn’t add up.

Willcot’s flight wasn’t scheduled to depart Portland until 11:59 p.m. — nearly two hours after Ryan checked in at LAX. When Ryan was denied boarding around 10 p.m., Willcot’s flight hadn’t even been posted as delayed yet.

“At the time of Ryan’s denial, no delay was yet posted for our flight,” Willcot says. “The first announcement came later and was only a 15-minute delay.”

More importantly, the ticket agents at LAX never mentioned Willcot’s flight or any delay. Willcot asked them to look up her reservation to confirm she’d arrive first. They refused, stating simply that unaccompanied minors shouldn’t be booked on connecting flights.

If the real reason for the denial was the delay, why didn’t United say so at the time? Why did the airline’s subsequent explanations never mention it until three months later, after multiple other rationales had failed?

“United has shifted its story multiple times, with each new explanation contradicting the last,” Willcot notes. “If there had been a valid reason, it would have been stated consistently from the start.”

United’s contract of carriage allows the airline to refuse transportation for safety reasons. If United genuinely believed Ryan would arrive in Houston with no adult present to meet her, denying boarding would be appropriate.

But that requires United to have known about the delay, checked Willcot’s flight, and determined she couldn’t arrive on time. None of that appears to have happened at LAX. The agents simply saw a connecting flight for an unaccompanied minor and said no.

The travel agency maintains its position: United authorized the booking, reconfirmed it twice before departure, and only denied it at the gate based on policy — not operational issues.

“Ultimately, the decision to authorize, deny, or compensate lies with United Airlines,” RZRV Travel told us.

United also maintains its position: the travel agency booked against policy without proper authorization, and the denial was appropriate.

So what was the resolution?

United refunded Ryan’s unused flight segment from LAX to Houston: $375. The airline also refunded the $300 unaccompanied minor fee and offered 25,000 MileagePlus miles “as a gesture of goodwill.”

Total value: approximately $1,000, depending on how you value the miles.

Willcot spent $679 on the replacement Alaska Airlines ticket. She spent hours on phone calls, emails, and documentation trying to piece together what happened. And her 13-year-old daughter was denied boarding after her family had done everything United told them to do.

Our advocate Dwayne Coward asked the airline repeatedly to explain the supervisor override, the multiple conflicting explanations, and the disappearing reservation records. United declined to comment beyond its prepared statement blaming the travel agency.

We also contacted RZRV Travel, giving the agency an opportunity to respond. Initially reluctant to be involved, the agents eventually provided a detailed account supporting Willcot’s version of events.

“This reservation could not have been completed without United Airlines’ intervention,” an agency representative wrote. “We followed up with United on two additional occasions prior to travel to reconfirm there would be no issue, and were assured the booking was valid.”

After reviewing all the documentation — confirmation emails, call logs, credit card statements, United’s contradictory written responses, and the timeline of events — the truth became clear to us. United must have authorized an exception to its unaccompanied minor policy, allowed the booking to be ticketed, collected payment, then reversed course at the gate without a clear explanation.

Willcot may yet pursue legal action. For now, she’s left with an expensive extra airline ticket and an unresolved grievance with an airline.

“I don’t need to keep proving what I lived through,” Willcot says. “I was fully aware of the contract of carriage — and what United relied on the night of the flight was the connection rule, which they had already broken by finalizing and confirming the booking.”

Bottom line: When you get an exception to the rules, make sure you get it in writing. Documentation may not prevent airlines from changing their mind — but it makes it harder to pretend the conversation never happened.

Your flight is canceled. Your hotel loses your reservation. Your car rental company runs out of vehicles.

So what does the company do? It reaches into its favor bag and offers you a voucher or a “goodwill” credit that expires in a year.

It’s called coupon justice, and it’s a troubling trend quietly sweeping the travel industry. Coupon justice is an increasingly automated system for handling legitimate customer complaints. 

And no, it’s not justice at all. It’s corporate self-preservation and penny-pinching, dressed up in customer-friendly language.

Coupon justice is everywhere

The practice has exploded since the pandemic, when companies pivoted to vouchers to hoard cash. Now, years later, they’ve discovered another benefit: Travelers don’t always use the scrip. And the company keeps the money without having to give them anything.

“It’s elegant in a way,” says Joe Cronin, president of International Citizens Insurance. “The airline gets interest-free financing. You get trapped in their ecosystem. Nobody gets made whole.”

But these partial remedies aren’t compensation. They’re corporate loopholes dressed in business casual, and you don’t have to fall for them on your next trip.

Here’s why companies love vouchers (and you should hate them)

Here’s how it works in practice: Let’s say something goes terribly wrong with your $180 hotel room, like incessant construction noise or a broken shower. Instead of offering you a refund for the night, the hotel gives you a $50 voucher for a future stay. 

There are two problems: First, there are no $50 rooms, so you’ll have to pay more to redeem this offer. Also, the hotel knows there’s a good chance your voucher will sit in your desk until it expires. It should have paid you $180, but instead you have nothing of real value.

Let me be blunt: Vouchers solve a company’s problem, not yours.

When you get a voucher instead of a refund, the company keeps your money on its books. The value of the voucher doesn’t immediately hit the balance sheet as a loss. It becomes a liability, but one the company doesn’t have to pay until (and unless) you redeem it.

And if you don’t spend it? The company wins twice: It kept your money and avoided paying you at all.

“Coupons allow the wrongdoer to keep its ill-gotten gains,” explains Danny Karon, author of Your Lovable Lawyers Guide To Legal Wellness: Fighting back against a world that’s out to cheat you. “Everyone knows how often gift cards go unused, which is precisely the company’s goal. They drive additional business to the wrongdoer, with victims often spending more than the value of the voucher.”

Can airlines force you to accept a voucher instead of a refund?

Under U.S. Department of Transportation (DOT) rules, airlines have to provide prompt refunds to your original form of payment when they cancel flights or make significant changes. But an airline can also offer a voucher, and if you say yes, it’s a done deal. Many passengers don’t know this. So when the airline offers a flight credit, travelers assume it’s their only option.

It’s not.

“Airlines offering only vouchers without a genuine cash option violate these legal obligations,” says Eric Napoli, chief legal officer at AirHelp.

Hotels and booking sites operate in a legal gray zone. Few hard rules govern their refund practices. They’ll push credits unless you push back.

How to fight back — and win

Vouchers aren’t inevitable. You can get real refunds if you know what to do.

Start with reliable documentation. Ari Cibari, who works with tour operators untangling refund disputes, swears by one simple habit: Document everything. Note dates and times of any delay or cancellation. Take photos of receipts, vouchers, and anything else relevant. “Use clear language,” says Cibari, a travel business consultant with AtlasPerk. “Keep everything in writing versus phone calls. Take a screenshot of the terms, note date and times. Don’t aim for perfection, aim for immediacy.” Having good documentation greatly increases your chance of having an airtight case.

When a company offers you a voucher, refuse it in writing. Use the phrase “breach of contract” or “failure to deliver service as promised.” Request a full refund to your original form of payment. Keep a copy of that email.

If they insist on giving you a coupon, escalate. Contact a manager. If that doesn’t work, file a complaint with the DOT (for airlines) or the Federal Trade Commission (for booking sites). If it’s outside the U.S., go to the appropriate country’s aviation regulator or consumer protection agency.

If that doesn’t work, dispute the charge with your credit card company. When you have a clean paper trail — emails, screenshots, receipts — you’re likely to win.

What needs to change

I’ve been watching this trend since I started advocating consumer cases in the 90s. And I’m sure of this: Coupon justice won’t end without regulatory pressure. 

Here’s what might actually work:

Limit the voucher option. If governments require airlines to offer a cash refund and only give vouchers on request, that would stop some (but not all) of the shenanigans.

Disclose everything. Consumers need to know that for many travel credits, the actual redemption rate for vouchers is below 10 percent. In other words, there’s a 90 percent chance the voucher will go unused. Also, businesses should be up front about expiration dates or any other limits.

Eliminate expiration dates. Also, kill any blackout dates and minimum spending requirements. Allow the credit to be used all at once or split into several purchases.

Most importantly, we need to enforce the rules that exist. The DOT’s refund requirements are clear. So are Europe’s. But enforcement is weak, so companies sometimes ignore them. 

Coupon justice isn’t justice at all. It’s another word  for “we’re keeping your money and hoping you won’t fight back.” But you can’t win if you don’t try. And companies are betting you won’t.

If you needed a sign that the universe wants you to skip a cruise this summer, here it is.

There’s the MV Hondius, the Dutch expedition ship that limped into Tenerife last week after a hantavirus outbreak killed three people and infected at least eight more. The Andes virus strain responsible is the only hantavirus known to spread person to person.

There’s the Caribbean Princess, which arrived in Port Canaveral, Fla., carrying a different souvenir: norovirus. The CDC reports that 102 passengers and 13 crew members fell ill on the 13-day Caribbean voyage out of Fort Lauderdale. It’s the fourth gastrointestinal outbreak on a cruise ship this year.

U.S. Customs and Border Protection (CBP) confirmed last week that federal agents had boarded eight cruise ships at the Port of San Diego and detained 28 crew members. CBP said 27 of them were involved in the receipt, possession, transportation, distribution, or viewing of child sexual abuse material.

Even if you survive the viruses and scandals, you might still run out of luck. This week, an 88-year-old passenger reportedly died after losing control of her mobility scooter on the pier at Carnival’s private island, Celebration Key in the Bahamas, and plunging into the water. (Related: The cruise ship virus is back. Why did we fire the health inspectors, again?)

Zoom out, and the picture gets even worse. 

The problems plaguing the cruise industry, from viral outbreaks and accidents to scandals, are compounded by ships sailing under flags of convenience, which ensure minimal regulation and maximum profit through a fine-tuned system designed to siphon more money from your wallet.

A regulated industry, mostly in theory

These ships do not, in any meaningful sense, sail under U.S. law. The Caribbean Princess flies the flag of Bermuda. Most of the Carnival fleet flies Panama or the Bahamas. Royal Caribbean prefers the Bahamas and Liberia. They’re called flags of convenience, and the convenience belongs to the operator, not to you. It means a company headquartered in Miami can pay crew wages set by Honduran labor norms, follow safety standards written in Nassau, and route disputes through courts outside the United States.

The one U.S. agency with real authority over sanitation on ships that call at American ports is the CDC’s Vessel Sanitation Program. One year ago, the administration laid off the program’s full-time civilian staff, including the epidemiologist who led the outbreak response on cruise ships (12 U.S. Public Health Service officers remained). The program chief announced his retirement last week, in the middle of the hantavirus outbreak.

What it looks like when something goes wrong

The headlines describe outbreaks and arrests, but most cruises fall short in smaller ways.

Shari Lunsford, a receptionist from Livingston, Tenn., paid $1,500 for a Carnival cruise last month from New Orleans to Cozumel. Nothing in her cabin worked. She says the sinks and showers would not drain. She stood in two inches of water every time she bathed. Her toilet stopped working twice, sending her in search of a public restroom several decks up. Her stateroom thermostat would not go below 73 degrees, which the ship’s cabin crew told her is within company policy. Her room steward eventually brought a fan. She slept on an ice pack.

Lunsford complained at guest services on board, which sent her a cheap bottle of champagne and a cheese plate. Off the ship, she escalated her complaint. A representative from the cruise line’s office of the president called her, listened to her story, and offered the final compensation: a future cruise credit of $99 per person, plus a $150 onboard credit, both redeemable within a year.

That’s right, the remedy for a $1,500 trip Lunsford describes as a nightmare is a small discount on a second trip with the same company. 

What are you getting when you cruise?

Suppose you decide none of that bothers you, and you just like being on a ship.

Here’s what you need to know: In addition to being loosely regulated and sometimes dangerous, a cruise ship is a carefully calibrated machine designed to extract more money from your wallet.

Cruises are filled with annoying and not always avoidable upsells and fees. There’s the upsell from the buffet to the specialty restaurant. There’s the push for the drink package at the bar. And, of course, there’s the overpriced shore excursion.

Gratuities that used to be discretionary are now line items added to your folio “for your convenience.” Passengers rarely question them because they feel guilty about the substandard wages the crew receives. 

The art auction, the photo package, the casino, the spa upsell, the Wi-Fi, it all adds to your bill.

So in addition to the danger, you also get dinged for extras. If you want to know how that feels, just grab a coffee on the last day of a cruise and sit at the reception desk, where passengers are trying to settle their bill. Yes, there’s a reason those security guys are standing there, too. Get ready for fireworks.

Don’t take a cruise this summer

There’s only one sane conclusion: This isn’t the summer for a cruise. A vacation at sea is a dangerous, deregulated disaster-in-the-making designed to drain money from your bank account. You can’t forecast the next viral outbreak, but the cruise experience itself is predictable. 

Cruise lines, for the most part, care more about monetizing passengers than serving them. They care more about upselling them than keeping them safe. 

Stay on land this summer. It’s a vacation you might actually survive.

If you’re booking a summer vacation in 2026, the summer airfare on your screen today may not be the price you pay next week.

U.S. jet fuel prices have climbed 82 percent since the Iran war began in late February, hitting $4.56 a gallon this week. 

Willie Walsh, the director general of the International Air Transport Association, told reporters in Paris this week that ticket price increases are “inevitable.”

“There’s no way our industry can absorb the increase in the oil price,” he added.

Translation: passengers will.

If you’re planning a summer flight, you could be walking into a trap. The reason starts thousands of miles from any airport, in the Strait of Hormuz, where Iran and the U.S. are engaged in a military standoff. Airlines are using the conflict as an excuse to take certain liberties with your schedule and the price you pay for your ticket.

The question is, are these valid reasons? (Scroll down to the poll to weigh in.)

Why flying will cost more during the summer of 2026

Jet fuel hit $216 a barrel on March 19, up from $88 before the conflict, with refined fuel rising faster than crude because the strikes disrupted Middle East refining capacity. The aviation analytics firm Cirium reports that airlines have canceled about 13,000 May flights, removing nearly 2 million seats from global schedules.

The damage shows up on your ticket. The average round-trip domestic flight in the United States hit $361 in late April, up 8 percent since the war started and 19 percent from a year earlier. International round-trips averaged $1,097, a 42 percent jump in two months. (Related: You can’t hack airfares, but airlines are hacking you.)

Schedules and services are changing, too, as a result of the conflict. United Airlines has cut its planned schedule by about 5 percent. Delta, facing $2 billion in added fuel costs in a single quarter, announced it is cutting food and beverage service on over 400 daily domestic flights shorter than 350 miles. And, of course, Spirit Airlines, which had filed for bankruptcy twice in two years, ceased all operations on May 2 after failing to secure a $500 million federal bailout.

It’s not just American carriers. Lufthansa cut 20,000 short-haul flights through October and is winding down its CityLine subsidiary entirely. Turkish Airlines canceled more than 3,000 flights. In other words, you can’t leave the country to escape the oil shortages—or the higher fares.

Why are airlines really raising fares?

The airline industry’s argument is pretty straightforward: They can’t fly planes at a loss. Walsh says fuel accounts for about 26 percent of an airline’s cost base. Carriers describe fare hikes and capacity cuts as “sensible” measures to stay profitable.

IATA insists this is a temporary cost passengers will absorb, not an existential threat to aviation. The UK government has even temporarily suspended slot-use rules so carriers can consolidate flights without losing airport access. Airlines say it’s better than outright cancellations.

Yet something about this doesn’t quite sit right with passengers. Many airlines remain profitable. United’s flight attendants this week even ratified a new five-year labor agreement that includes an average pay raise of 31 percent. And besides, the biggest carriers aren’t exclusively in the transportation business. Their loyalty programs and co-branded credit card deals often generate more income than flying actual customers.

So the complaints about higher costs really just mean, “We’re less profitable than we were before the latest Middle East crisis.” And to people trying to scrape together enough pennies for a summer flight, that’s infuriating.

Do you believe the airlines?

And that brings us to today’s poll.

If you said yes:

• Should the government cap how much airlines can pass through in fuel surcharges?
• How much more would you pay before you cancel your trip?

If you said no:

• Should regulators force airlines to lower fares when fuel prices drop?
• Would you support a ban on involuntary flight consolidations?

My take: There’s nothing unavoidable about these price increases. After all, consumers control what they pay, and if the price is too high, they won’t bite. What is unavoidable is that the airline industry will milk this crisis for everything it can. After the 2008 oil shock, airlines kept the fees and surcharges they invented during the crisis. Checked bag fees, change fees, fuel surcharges never went away when fuel got cheap. The industry’s pricing memory is one-directional. The Middle East crisis is real, but so is the airline opportunism that comes with it.

Your turn

Has your summer trip already gotten more expensive? Did an airline cancel a flight on you, offer a voucher instead of a refund, or quietly raise your fare? Tell me what you’re seeing in the comments.

My family’s summer road trip was less than an hour old when an unfamiliar orange exclamation point illuminated the dashboard of our Honda Pilot. We were merging onto I-95, a stretch of asphalt that exhausts even the most patient driver, and I panicked.

I pictured us stranded on the shoulder in the sweltering Florida heat, luggage spilling out of the trunk, waiting for a tow truck that might never arrive.

Drivers face their 100 deadliest days between Memorial Day and Labor Day. That may sound like the title of a low-budget horror movie, but it is a statistical reality for American motorists.

Most travelers obsess over their flight details but barely glance at their tires. They toss a few bags in the trunk, fire up a Spotify playlist, and assume their luck will hold. The only question they expect from the back seat is, “Are we there yet?”

But they fail to pose the safety questions that actually matter.

I know because I hear from these travelers every year. They’re the ones who took a late-summer road trip and paid the price for poor preparation. It turns out there are three questions you should be asking before you pull out of the driveway this August, and the answers might save your vacation.

Is my car ready for the heat?

You might think your car is fine because it survived June and July. Not necessarily.

“Late August is one of the most common times for vehicle failures related to heat,” says Shawn Miller, the founder of Modified Rides, an auto website.

By the time late summer rolls around, your cooling systems, batteries, tires, and belts have already been stressed all season. Extreme heat accelerates wear. Those small issues that started earlier, such as a weak battery or marginal coolant levels, often finally fail during long, hot drives.

“Ignoring temperature warnings or minor leaks is usually what turns a cheap fix into a breakdown,” Miller says.

There’s more. Ron Harper, who manages OTD Ticket Defenders Legal Service, points out that pavement temperatures can exceed 150 degrees Fahrenheit at this time of year. That’s hot enough to warp metal and disintegrate tires.

“Heat reduces the life expectancy of a battery,” Harper says.

Duane Watson, a technical trainer at Bosch Mobility Aftermarket, agrees. He notes that when components are constantly stressed, the impact compounds over time. He says oil changes and tire replacements are the most delayed maintenance activities. But you shouldn’t ignore the engine air filter, either.

“Not changing your engine air filter within the recommended timeframe can further stress your car engine and potentially lead to breakdowns,” Watson says.

What happens if I’m towing something?

If you think car tires are vulnerable, you should see what people put on their campers.

Tony Barthel, a veteran of the RV industry who runs the site StressLess Camping, sees it all the time. He says tire blowouts are “extremely common” on travel trailers and fifth wheels.

“Many towable RVs use cheap tires for which there is a derogatory term I’d rather not share,” Barthel says.

Many of these bargain-bin tires have a speed rating of 65 mph. But drivers eager to get to the campground often tow much faster than that. Combine excessive speed with 150-degree pavement and a heavy load, and you have all the makings of a summer disaster.

Barthel knows people who have had to wait two to three days on the side of the road before a proper tow rig could be dispatched.

Does my insurance cover a mechanical breakdown?

This is the big one. It’s the question that costs people thousands of dollars.

“The biggest insurance coverage gap people miss is assuming mechanical breakdowns are covered under standard auto insurance,” says Miller.

They aren’t. Most policies only cover accidents, not failures caused by wear, overheating, or neglected maintenance.

Jon Greene, a vice president at Agero, a roadside assistance company, says there is a massive gap in awareness. 

“While 85 percent of drivers have a roadside assistance program, only 18 percent actually use that coverage during a breakdown event,” Greene says.

But even if you use it, be careful. Miller warns that while they may tow the vehicle, they won’t cover the actual repair costs or secondary damage caused by overheating. And Harper points out another “gotcha” hidden in the fine print: mileage limits.

“Common examples of towing mileage limitations include 15 miles,” Harper says. If you are crossing the desert and your radiator explodes 50 miles from civilization, you’ll pay for those extra 35 miles out of pocket.

Just ask car expert Lauren Fix. She traveled to Charlotte, N.C., for an event and ended up with a flat tire on the way down and a blown engine on the way back. She says AAA wouldn’t haul her car back to Buffalo, where she could get it repaired.

“We finally had to pay for a flatbed truck to get the vehicle home,” Fix recalls. “Many hundreds of dollars in cash later.”

How to road-trip safely this summer

So, how do you make it home safely?

• Do a pre-trip inspection. This is not just a glance at the treads. Miller suggests a basic seasonal inspection: pressure-test the cooling system, and inspect hoses and belts for cracking. Watson adds that you should top off all fluids—oil, coolant, brake, and transmission—and replace your wipers if they are streaking.

• Check your coverage. Harper advises looking for “trip interruption reimbursement.” This is generally separate from standard towing and covers lodging and food if you are stranded. Usually, it’s capped at around $100 per day for three days, but that’s better than nothing. (Related: Your summer road trip just got 30 percent more expensive. Here’s how to fight back.)

• Consider travel insurance. Lauren McCormick of Squaremouth notes that many people only consider travel insurance for flights or cruises. But travel insurance can offer significant benefits even if you’re driving. 

“Just because you’re not boarding a plane or leaving the country, travel insurance is still a must,” says Daniel Durazo, a spokesman for Allianz Partners. He points out that as long as your destination is 100 miles or more from your home, many plans cover you. That includes emergency medical and transportation, vital benefits if you’re stranded in a rural area.

And if you rent a car? Durazo says you can save money by skipping the expensive counter insurance. “For only $13 per day, you can get benefits including primary coverage for covered collision, loss and damage,” he says.

Did I make it to Washington, D.C.?

I opened our Honda’s owner’s manual. Fortunately, the orange light was just a tire pressure problem. I found a service station, filled it, and the light was extinguished. We made Washington without a scratch, but the panic on the shoulder of I-95 stayed with me.

It could have been much worse. A blowout at highway speeds could have been catastrophic. And truthfully, I should have done a full check-up before leaving the driveway.

Don’t wait for the dashboard lights to scream at you. Before backing out of the driveway, check the hoses, the belts, and the tires. It is far less exciting than the drive itself, but it beats standing on the shoulder of I-95, praying for a tow truck.

When David Cerullo returns a defective DVD/VCR combo to Amazon, he expects a quick refund. Instead, the company asks him to prove his identity — and keeps rejecting his valid Colorado driver license. Now, he just wants to know why Amazon is making it so difficult to get his money back.

Question

I bought a DVD/VCR combo from Amazon for $273. After using it for a few weeks, it stopped loading DVDs, so I returned it. Amazon confirmed it received the item a few days later.

Then I saw a message on my account saying, “Your refund couldn’t be processed.” When I called, a representative told me I had to verify my identity before they could issue a refund. Amazon sent me a link to upload my driver’s license, which I did. But the system kept rejecting it, saying my Colorado driver license wasn’t from the United States.

I must have done this five times. Each time I called, a representative told me to wait three days and try again. But nothing worked. 

I’ve had this account for years and never had a problem before. I don’t understand why I suddenly need to prove who I am to get my refund. Can you help me find out why Amazon made this so hard — and get my money back? — David Cerullo, Denver

Answer

Looks like you ran into one of Amazon’s automated security checks. The company flagged your account for “abnormal activity” — in this case, repeated returns and mismatched information — and required identity verification before issuing a refund.

Amazon’s verification system is far from perfect. It can reject perfectly valid documents. That’s why your Colorado driver license was repeatedly flagged as “not from the United States,” and why you got stuck in a frustrating loop. Every time you uploaded your ID, a representative told you to wait three days and try again, with no clear way to reach a human who could fix the issue.

You asked Amazon repeatedly what had gone wrong. One representative said there was “possible” fraud on your account. Another claimed you had “suspicious activity.” Interestingly, this was your only purchase on Amazon in the last five years. (Related: Help! My two-factor authentication on Amazon stopped working after I got a new phone.)

What can you do in a situation like this? First, save a complete paper trail — screenshots, emails, chat transcripts. That documentation will be critical if you need to escalate your request.

If you’re going in circles, escalate to Amazon’s executive contacts (I list them on my advocacy site, Elliott.org). Persistence and thorough documentation are your best tools for breaking free from an automated system that’s failing you.

Colorado law also protects you in situations like this. Under the Colorado Consumer Protection Act, you have the right to a refund for defective merchandise. Retailers can’t create unreasonable barriers to returning faulty products, and you can file a complaint with the Attorney General if a company acts in bad faith.

I contacted Amazon on your behalf. Because you used an Amazon store card, it required additional identity verification, which included mailing a code and a follow-up call. Two months after returning the defective DVD/VCR, you finally received your money.

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.” (Related: Why are travel companies replacing real refunds with “coupon justice”?)

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.