So you want to buy a mistake fare

So, you want to buy a mistake fare.

First, you need to know where to look. You could use Google Flights or Skyscanner to monitor routes and ping you whenever fares drop to abnormally low levels, but ain’t nobody got time for that. Just stalk sites like SecretFlying and FlyerTalk’s Premium Fare Deals section instead. There’s also private Twitter accounts and closed Facebook groups, where invitations are more rare than steak tartare, codetalking is the lingua franca, and membership rules are basically plagiarised from Fight Club.

Then, you wait. Because that’s all you can do, really. There’s no telling when a mistake fare will pop up. It could be the result of a fat-finger error, when a soon-to-be-unemployed individual leaves out a zero or selects the wrong currency when filing a fare. It could be the result of a system glitch, when fuel surcharges and taxes are inexplicably left off a ticket. Whatever the cause, they’re black swan events; all you can do is be ready to strike when they arise.

And even when a mistake fare does happen, there’s no guarantee you’ll be able to take advantage of it. Mistake fares are often highly specific, limited to a particular route, fare class and date. A five-dollar fare for a flight next week from Tijuana to Tehran might spark pandemonium elsewhere around the globe; it won’t raise so much as an eyebrow in Singapore. 

But one day, the stars will align. One morning, your phone chirps: this is not a drill, there’s a mistake fare originating in a city near you! Suddenly, life goes on hold. Baby crying? Carousell buyer waiting downstairs? Girlfriend says “we need to talk” in a not-at-all-ominous matter? Sorry. You’ve got a mistake fare to book.

Your heart races as you blaze through the booking process, knowing that time is of the essence. Every second you delay, seats are being snapped up, bloggers (who ruin everything, don’t you know) are spreading the word, and panicked orders are being shouted into phones at airline headquarters.

How many tickets should I buy? What dates can I take leave? Am I bringing the family? What dates can they travel? Where’s my credit card? For the love of god, where’s my credit card!

But finally, it’s booked. You heave a sigh of relief as the email confirmation and e-ticket pops up in your inbox. You’re now home free. 

Well, not really. The stressful part is just beginning. In the ensuing days, you join like-minded individuals on message boards and chat groups, all asking the same question: will the airline honour the fare?

Rumours fly. Someone claims their brother’s third cousin’s best friend works at the airline, and not only are they not honouring the deal, they’re chartering an A380 and dumping all ticketholders on a deserted island for a remake of Battle Royale. Another says that he knows for a fact the fare will be honoured, because he’s the hairdresser to the CEO’s ex-wife’s executive assistant.

On cue, trolls show up to pontificate about how unethical everyone else’s behaviour is (“even Hitler didn’t buy mistake fares!”). A guy who bought a hundred tickets gets featured in the media, raising the ire of all for breaking omertà. You’re excited, confused and anxious, all at the same time.

Here’s where realities start diverging.

In one universe, the airline falls back on its watertight legalese and cancels the tickets. There is weeping and gnashing of teeth. Enraged buyers call for a boycott, throwing around terms like bait and switch and unconscionable conduct (“even Hitler didn’t cancel mistake fares!”). Someone finds a way to blame it on the ruling party and/or foreign talent (probably both). A particularly dramatic individual posts a photo of his cut up frequent flyer card. The hairdresser to the CEO’s ex-wife’s executive assistant is nowhere to be found.

In another universe, the airline, after much hemming and hawing, decides to honour the deal. Elation ensues. Friends and family ask why you bojio on the lobang. Your boss passive-aggressively says “oh, taking leave again?” But you don’t care. You’re flying Business Class to a far-flung land for cents on the dollar!

And yet, after the initial euphoria dies down, you can’t help but remain suspicious. I’m flying Business Class to a far-flung land for cents on the dollar? What’s the catch? Even as you start booking activities and hotels, you worry obsessively about getting rejected at check-in. What if the airline reneges on its word? What if your positioning flight misconnects? The anxiety comes creeping back.

Eventually, D-Day arrives. Up till the time you step onboard and sip the pre-flight champagne, you refuse to believe it’s actually happening. It’s only after the doors close, the aircraft taxis, and the pilot announces that today’s flight is indeed headed to your actual destination (and not Battle Royal island) that finally you sit back, relax, and let yourself start enjoying your mistake fare.

Which scenario will become canon in your case? It’s impossible to say. For every Cathay Pacific S$900 First Class fare to the USA, there’s dozens more that get cancelled. Airlines consider a host of factors when deciding whether to honour a mistake fare: the number of tickets sold, the load factors on the route in question, the reputational impact. Past performance may not be indicative of future returns- there’s never any certainty with mistake fares.

What is certain, however, is that everyone who buys one is signing up for a wild ride of excitement, anxiety, stress, denial, abject disappointment and maybe, just maybe, a trip of a lifetime. It’s a roller coaster of emotions for sure.

But hey. You wanted to buy a mistake fare.