Ah The Searching … and Reserving … And Canceling …

I probably mentioned this when I was working on The Big Trip, but finding lodging sure is a challenge … and a game.

I had everything booked for this upcoming trip. I do this task by first putting a spreadsheet together. I compare booking directly (which I prefer), to Expedia, Booking.com, and United’s hotel link. I also look at Trip Advisor to see how a place is rated there. I now also look at Oyster.com to see what they have to say.

I then look at a map to see how far the place is from the Center Of Things and any places we must visit, as well as from whatever transportation we will be using in and out of the city.

And I did all that. I was slightly uncomfortable with a couple of places, but I booked something just to make sure we wouldn’t be stranded with no place to sleep.

Then I step away from the computer. This time I did so for … well … maybe 12 hours or so.

And then I go back, because I think, “Hm. Can I do better?!” And today I could. I had already canceled a B&B that made me just a bit concerned: it seemed a bit too difficult to get to (they said not to follow the GPS) and possibly too many stairs for lugging luggage (gee, those two words are obviously related, yes? How did I not think of that before?). I found a better hotel, and was going to book it directly, but thought I should probably check Expedia as well (even though I really dislike using a service … money is money), remembering that on the phone you get more points or whatever it is they give you AND sometimes there is even a price difference compared to the web. Sure enough, it was less — over $100 less than I had expected to pay.

But it’s dominoes, folks.

Since I did that I thought, “I wonder if the next hotel I booked is cheaper that way as well?”

Yep. $165 cheaper in fact. (Still doggone expensive. but that’s the UK for you.)

Now that I’ve gone down the rabbit hole I’ll probably end up looking at ALL the other places I’ve booked to see if I can do better with those as well.

But first I hear an oboe calling my name.