Product Review: Meep! Tablet

Two words: Epic Fail

Nutshell version: the Meep! tablet by Oregon Scientific is an unmitigated piece of crap.

A better option would be buying some off-brand tablet you’ve never heard of, running an older version of Android on an outdated processor, on sale from some outlet online. Really, you’ll be happier.

Or let them play Tetris on your old flip phone you haven’t yet recycled. It’ll keep them just as occupied.

A brief rundown:

• Battery life: none. My old, dead 3rd gen iPod has more battery life.
• Parental controls: none. Registration portal is unreachable most of the time, and when it is, it’s non-functional.
• Apps: basic, pre-installed, freebie games. You can enable the Google Play App Store—if you could register the unit on the Parental Portal (see above). Most of the other features—like text chat—are also hobbled until you can enable it.
• Customer Support: none. Their customer support phone number, like their parent portal, is also unreachable. If you do manage to get through, expect to be disconnected while waiting for someone to pick up.
• Screen: soft plastic. If you’re old enough to remember Space Fidgets [https://www.google.com/search?q=space+fidget+toy], those liquid crystal-filled disks that changed colors when you ran your finger over the back, you’ll recognize the color distortion around your finger as you jab it into the unresponsive screen. If you drag your finger around it leaves trails. The laptop I’m writing this on has a more rigid screen. (And in case no one told you, never poke your LCD screen.)

Opening the box, following the Quick Start guide, the first step is setting up Wi-Fi. That’s a no-brainer—no issues.

Step 2, according to the instructions, is connecting to their Parental Portal. But first, you need to perform two system updates. That it requires system updates right out of the box is (almost) to be expected—most computers do. But you can’t do anything with it apart from playing the pre-installed games until you do. Did I mention we purchased this as an Xmas present? Because that’s what every kid who’s just opened presents wants to do—wait for updates to install.

It doesn’t come with any games you can’t find (near equivalents of) in the App Store. Considering its biggest selling point is complete parental control of content, some might consider it odd three of the games intended for school-aged children involve shooting, and one blowing things up.

Most of the features are hobbled, until you can register a parental account through their portal. Only you can’t register through their portal, because it’s non-functional—even when it’s reachable. (And for two days now it has been consistently unreachable.) The portal doesn’t work with most browsers, including—get this—the tablet itself! That’s right, their tablet can’t access its own portal.

They claim this is by design. (I did get a reply to my initial irate e-mail.) They say this is to keep the kids from accessing the parental controls. Because any kid who could get past the password wouldn’t be able to get onto their parent’s computer, right? Or their iPad. Because they have an Apple iOS app for parental control—of their Android tablet. (No, they’ve yet to develop an Android app to control their custom Android interface.)

They do not explain why they only let Google Chrome or Apple Safari access their site. They claim it’s because their site uses HTML5 (ooh, you mean like most other modern websites?), and doesn’t function (well) with “some older browsers.” Instead of letting the user be responsible for their own experience, or simply upgrading their Internet Explorer or Firefox, the browser check on the front page won’t let any other browsers in. The three HTML5-compatible browsers I have on my phone didn’t work.

Oh, but that’s assuming you can get onto their site. In their reply they claim their site is “undergoing some maintenance.” During Xmas. No, it’s not completely overloaded by every parent who bought one trying to register it at the same time. They decided to bring their developers in, over a holiday, when a bunch of kids might all be opening them at the same time, to do “maintenance.” Right.

So when you do get onto the site, you watch the little video that shows you all of the things you’re about to do. Then, assuming you don’t want to see it every time you visit, you check the box that says, “Don’t show this again.” And that disables the login screen on the following page. What the check box should say is, “Don’t show me this, or any other of that other fancy-pants HTML5 code, including the login screen, again. Ever.” So you go get another computer and try again. You go to create a new account and enter the serial number and... that’s it. The portal doesn’t go any further. The buttons do nothing. Must be that “maintenance.”

I put the thing down around 1 AM with what looked like ⅔ of battery left. The next morning it was dead. We plugged it in to charge overnight. I unplugged it at 8 AM, set up Wi-Fi again, then turned the screen off and set it down. By lunch time we picked it up again, and it was dead again. Seriously. It was off and it didn’t last 5 hours.

I won’t take (too much) issue with the forward-facing camera, as most other child-oriented tablets don’t have a rear-facing camera, so, y’know, the kid can actually take pictures with it. Except the camera quality is crap, too. In anything other than bright sunlight the pictures are too dark, and they’re extremely jagged and pixelated. The camera in your old flip phone has better resolution.

I’ve convinced my kid to give it up so he can get a better one (a feat in itself). This is going back in the box and back to the store.

Well just pound me in the ass and call me fish

Homemade shiv not included.

Seriously. Is this what you want your kids playing with (rated T, 13+)?

I sometimes think the various "Dope Wars" and "Mafia" games on Facebook, and certainly the likes of "Grand Theft Auto" are in bad taste (scoring points for engaging in criminal activity), but is this any better? I don't know if they're related to all the other "tycoon" games out there (Railway Tycoon, et al.) but this is going too far.

Or is it?

From the game description: "Private prisons have become the new growth industry." Unfortunately, that's true. And herein is the underlying problem. The description goes on: "You will construct and run an efficient rehabilitation facility with nothing but money on your mind." [emphasis added]

You are clearly not concerned with "rehabilitation" when there's "nothing but money on your mind."

News flash, folks: this is not a game - this is currently going on in this country in the real world. The US ranks 1st in the world in per capita prison population. That is, we put more of our citizens behind bars than any other modern nation. Why? Because we're inherently so bad? Because we're so much better than the rest of the world at fighting crime? Or because it's in the financial interests of a select few?

We're building prisons at a frightening rate - and still the ones we have are grossly overcrowded. We have a drug policy that puts teens in the hole until they're middle aged for having the audacity to get high. I could go on. I'll only mention tangentially the conspiracy theory about the plans to lock up large segments of the US population - like we did to the Japanese American citizens during the onset of WWII - during an imminently anticipated "civil unrest." Good thing we don't protest any more.

[CD-ROM Game - PRISON TYCOON.]

My insurance company wants to sue my 3-yr-old

In an effort to not have to pay the ER bill I incurred, Captial BlueCross is suggesting I go after my preschooler for the money.

Let me explain. One nice, quiet, peaceful summer evening, as I was putting my then 2-year-old son to bed, he retaliated by sending me to the emergency room.

OK, not exactly, it wasn't intentional (so he says), but he threw his head back, straight into my mouth, splitting my lip open vertically across my unstraightened teeth.

After the blood stopped gushing, I gathered the courage to examine the inside of my lower lip, discovering it split almost completely through to the other side. Opened up just like, well, a pair of lips.

When I got to the ER, I explained to the admitting/intake clerk what happened - that my son's head struck my face, splitting my lip open. She shook her head, took notes, gave me a bracelet and told me to have a seat.

As an aside, it occurred to me as I waited that anyone who opposes state-run medical facilities for fear of having to wait to see a doctor has never actually been to an "emergency" room. No, I was not in mortal peril - it was evening, and a weekend, so there would be no GP to consult. Still, I waited most of the evening to see someone.

I eventually did see the triage nurse. He took a look inside my mouth and concluded I would require stitches. When he asked how I came to have this injury, I reiterated the above story. He was amused, but not unsympathetic.

I was then admitted inside, and proceeded to wait further to see another medical professional. An attending nurse prepped the room, pulling out all manner of instruments for suturing deep lacerations. And then I waited some more.

Eventually a doctor's assistant (I believe - in any case someone capable of attending to my injury and making a qualified examination thereof) came in and said that my lip had mostly healed already (!!). I could have stitches if I wanted, but that itself would be painful, and that area of the mouth heals very quickly (I didn't think I had waited that long). So off I went back home, with my discharge papers, new bracelet and an ER co-pay bill in my hand.

To the point of this story, I did tell the attending doctor('s assistant) the same story about how my lip came to be that way.

Months go by, and I get the Explanation of Benefits from CBC. They're denying payment, because they've come to believe that the injury was the result of an auto accident (?). They suggest filing a claim against my auto policy.

The part of my brain that believes conspiracy theories wondered if they were trying to weasel out of paying - "clearly the nature of your injuries suggests they were sustained in an automobile accident" - but having a wife who works in the health care field, I understand how someone could write down the wrong code on a form, and my injury could be misclassified. I call to clear up the confusion.

The clerk I spoke with was more than pleasant. He, like everyone, was amused at my retelling of how my son came to bust me in the mouth. He said he would make the proper notations, and that would be it.

Always be wary when someone in that position says something like that.

I've just now gotten a letter - a form to fill out, actually - an "Other Party Liability Report." My "contract contains a Subrogation provision that includes the right of recovery for benefits provided when a third party has first payment responsibility." In other words, tell us who's responsible, so we can go after them for the money.

They want to know if it was (again) the result of an auto accident, or was work-related. Under "Section 2 - Complete this section if another person or party was responsible for the injury/illness," it asks, "has or will the person file a claim against the responsible person or the insurance company?" Then it asks for their insurance information - uncuriously, it's the same as mine. It then asks if I've retained an attorney.

No, I wasn't planning on suing someone with the same last name who lives at the same address, who's on my insurance policy. Yes, I know forms like these often get kicked out automatically by "the system" and that they're usually applicable, but considering everyone involved should know by now how it happened, I shouldn't have to explain it again.

Define "pre-existing"

John 1 (Americans 0):

(via crosswalk.com)

ı In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. 2 He was in the beginning with God. 3 All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being. What has come into being 4 in him was life, and the life was the light of all people.

I can have been in multiple auto accidents - causing all of them through my own faults - have had my driving privilege revoked (temporarily), and still be able to purchase (government mandated) auto insurance (albeit at a higher cost).

I can purchase a home in southern California and many agencies would still sell me flood, mudslide and fire insurance, though it would be more costly than for someone in, say, Montana.

The point is, I could get it.

How does, "sorry, you had that before you got here," only apply when you're paying for medical care?

If I'm a woman and I've had a C-section or been the victim of domestic abuse, or if I was born with a congenital health issue and turn 18 and am no longer covered under my parents' plan, under all the circumstances I can find myself unable to acquire health insurance. They just won't sell it to me.

Or, having an insurance policy, if I change jobs and get a new employer-sponsored health plan or my current employer changes providers, or again am the above woman, I can, legally, be denied payment for necessary treatments.

Sometimes we need to pay for conditions we already have. And if we're paying for "just in case," we expect the case to be paid for, should the time arise.

Without payment there is no treatment. Without treatment, there is severe illness and death. And we allow this to go on.

The idea that something could have existed in some form before it became manifest is a debate for theologians, philosophers and quantum physicists. Not politicians and lobbyists. And if more insurers employed more theologians and philosophers, there wouldn't be much of a debate at all.

Word.

Insert tab A into slot B

Well, I guess it's time for what's getting to be my monthly posting about trips to Wisconsin - or as I like to call it, Chez Cheese. I know, I know, I haven't posted in two months. I actually wrote this one last month, but I never got around to finishing it. I didn't have anything to say about the month before because, frankly, it was uneventful (well, from a travel standpoint, anyway).

I did have the multiple gate-change, 4-hour layover fiasco in Chicago's O'Hare. (I was going to call the post, "O'Harried" or "O'Harrowing." Perhaps fortunately the post never happened.) While I was walking to my gate at one end of the terminal - the end of the terminal - they changed my gate to one in a completely different terminal. Let me say it again - changed while I was walking there. I lugged my 40 lb. shoulder bag (because who needs wheels?) and my backpack with laptop and accouterments (is that were luggage comes from, or is it the other way?) around the football stadium that is O'Hare for 4 hours. I had time to kill, and what was I supposed to do, buy a book and sit and read it?

They changed my gate 3 more times while I waited. Others told me that it was par for "No'Fare." So, while arduous, I didn't feel it particularly interesting enough to write about. Except that, well, I just did.

I knew what my topic was going to be last month, however, very soon after I landed. There is the unsung villain, perhaps villainous sidekick, rather, to air travel - car rental.

First off, there is the possibly illegal, though certainly unethical practice of tricking you into an upgrade. You reserve a small to midsize car, and when you show up to collect your reservation they say, "I have a monster SUV, or a fancy, high-end sport sedan available...?" Oh, they have plenty of smaller cars, too. But they're making you say, "OK" to the bigger car by presenting them, and only them, as options, usually without telling you they'll cost more.

Last month I switched to Avis from Enterprise, because I didn't like the later's practice of being a mere $10 cheaper, but offering a car so stripped down I was lucky to have automatic windows. (Does anyone have manual, roll-down windows anymore? But then what motion do you use when you want to talk to the person in the car next to you?) They (Enterprise) told me that for a "modest upgrade" I could get things like a stereo radio, cruise control (essential to keeping to the speed limit in a foreign state) and a key fob, so I don't have to fumble with gloves on in the snow and rain to get a key in and unlock one door then reach over and manually unlock the others to let in my passengers who're still standing outside. You know, the stuff we never had when we were kids. I know the corporate bean counters back home would balk at the word "upgrade" on my receipt, so I opted for the one who gave you all that stuff in the base rate.

If only they would give you the base rate. Booking the car through my corporate travel site, there's a price quoted for a midsize sedan of $48/day. Last month, when I got to the counter, the helpful woman at the counter said, "I have a Saturn Vue...?" Knowing as much about cars as I do economic foreign policy, I say, "m'OK," and am surprised to see a sporty little SUV waiting for me. And here I am thinking, wow, how nice of Avis to have such nice cars - worth the extra $10. There was some monster snow that weekend, so it turned out to be fortuitous.

So this time at the counter I'm told, "I have a [some brand I forget], which is a midsize SUV." Then, as I pause for a moment to consider what could be "midsize" for a monster truck that's far too huge for most people to get around in, and how it still qualifies as one, "it's $89 on your corporate rate." It's late at night and I'm tired, so my mental gears aren't completely greased.

"No," I say, "I certainly don't need anything that big," remembering the seats-6-with-all-their-luggage-and-a-kiddie-pool Vue.

"I have a Dodge Magnum...?"

"m'OK," I relent. She could have said, "I have Gursis Baba Friggle Bibby...?" and I would have said the same thing, because the only thing I could picture with the word "magnum" was condoms.


I'm not sure how I would classify the Dodge Magnum. It's got the look of a car for people who like to collect speeding tickets, but it's got a cargo area in the back. It's too short to be a van, but can you really call it a hatch-back? My van technically has a hatch on the back, but "hatch-back" brings other cars to mind. The Ford Pinto is a hatch-back. So is the AMC Gremlin. Back in my day, the name we used for cars that had a cargo area connected to the cab instead of a trunk was "Station Wagon." So, yeah, the Magnum is a fancy, sporty station wagon, albeit one in which you might actually be able to pick up a date.

Now the gears in my mind catch. Is this car, also $89 "on my corporate rate?" They didn't quote me a price, but is that what I paid last time? It's still bigger than I need, certainly not "blah," and I don't recall explicitly saying, "no, I want something cheaper." "No, not that big," should mean, to most people, "don't try to upsale me, just give me what I asked for."

This is decidedly dishonest for their use of the words, "on your corporate rate." They know I made the reservation trough a corporate travel agency. "Your corporate rate" is meant to imply that your company has agreed to the price. They haven't. That's the price Avis is offering to charge your company, and not necessarily discounted.

They handed me the barely discernible, used-up ink ribboned, dot matrix printout with, "initial here, here, here and here and sign here," but I didn't notice anything about a rate. It certainly wasn't told to me. I assumed, perhaps naively, that when my travel preferences explicitly state, "small to midsize" and quote a specific price when I make a reservation, that's what I'll get. No one at the airport asks me, "I have a first class seat available...?" when I get my boarding pass.

Yes, yes, caveat emptor, and I should check what I'm paying before I sign, but I already agreed to one price, so unless someone specifically says, "this is more," then that's all I should pay. They did say (this time) a particular car was more, but to that option I said, no. Without being told, upfront, before I say, OK, what the price of the other option is, I have to assume it's what I agreed to.

Not that I'm paying for it. I'm expensing the car. I just don't want the people whose corporate pockets the cost is coming out of coming by my office, jabbing their finger at my credit card statement, going, "explain this!" I'm sure I can manage a good, "b'wah...?" and reiterate the above. They've been letting me slide on my two beers with dinner (expensing alcohol is verboten) so I'm hoping they'll let this go, too.

Now we come to the little exercise I like to call, "Insert tab A into slot B." When was the last time you got into a car that came with instructions? OK, technically they all come with instructions, but when have you ever felt it necessary to read them? These are the keys that were in the car (broken ring hole, tape and all):


First, why do car rental agencies feel it necessary to give you two keys, then insist on bolting them together? What am I supposed to do with the second key? Use it when some distempered valet snaps the other one off in the lock?

Turns out, I don't know what to do with either key. They slide into the ignition, but that appears to be all they do. They slide so far into the ignition, with the head of the key so small, that I can just barely get my fingers in there to try to turn them. I don't try to twist too hard for fear of snapping them off or lacerating my fingers on the edges.

To that point, I've seen keys like this before - small, hideaway ones that slide into the remote fob. I've assumed they were there in case the remote battery died, so you could still open the door. These slide into the ignition, but so far that you can't turn them, so now I'm looking all over the interior for a start button, something other than the familiar turning key that's so much a given they're on my son's baby toys.

I shine a light into the ignition socket, and then I take another look at the key fob. That's when I remember that the point of most technological "innovation" is to be capricious and unnecessary. (Technology for its own sake, adding complication to simplicity because it's kewl.) And it dawns on me - the plug-shaped fob is the key. I jam it into the socket and twist and voilá, it starts up.

If two keys is mockingly unnecessary, then two keys that don't work, bolted onto something that doesn't look like a key but is, is just fucking with me.

For this I paid extra.

Quiznos can suck my ass

"Mmmm, mmmm, mmmm, mmmm, zzzzzzz....."

Right through the security screening at Chicago O'Hare (which I got through with one of those dangerous, deadly bottles of water in my bag - forgot it was there, but noticed my bags on the x-ray screen as the screener's back was turned to it to talk to the "security" person behind him - your tax dullards at work, don't you feel safe now?) is tiny Quiznos sub stand.

Long story short: the timestamp on my reciept is 1:19PM, my order number is 86. I realize how much of an error I've made when, waiting in a crowd of other people still waiting for their sandwiches, they're still calling numbers in the 70's.

There's three people working behind the counter - one person ringing up sales as fast as people queue up on line, one person making sandwiches as fast as she cares to make them, and another handing them out as fast as they roll out of the oven (i.e. not very).

Some 15 minutes later, and they're calling numbers in the low 80's, and I think I might actually get to eat something before my flight. "84!" Soon, very soon. "85!" OK, any minute now.

Except now there's a shift change for the person pulling the subs out of the oven. She leaves, and is out of sight before her replacement waddles (and I do mean waddles) into view. The replacement doesn't look like she's in a hurry to breathe (and appears to be using most of her mental capacity to remain doing so). There's an empty wire rack from the last sub at the end of the oven conveyor, and it's keeping the current sub from leaving the oven completely. So while the relief wrapper is punching in and slowly (I don't think she bent her knees once) squeezing her oompa-loompa frame between the sandwich maker and the oven, I'm watching what I assume to be my sandwich (read on) approach cumbustion.

"87!"

"What about 86!" I bark, and am sumarily ignored.

It's now more than 20 minutes past the time on my receipt. "90!" (they failed to call 88 or 89 as well) 20 minutes - this is lousy service on the season opener of Hell's Kitchen. How long should I be expected to wait for a god-damned sandwich? They only have 4 or 5 kinds on the menu, so it's not like I confused anyone with something unusual. It's not like they do anything else.

I decided I wasn't going to stand for such [dis]service and went back to the cashier and waited on line again to demand a refund. Of course there's a form that had to be filled out. I'm asked to sign at the bottom, then, "sorry about that." On the bottom it's noted, "customer said they waited too long," as the reason. (The man behind me asked, "what's good here?" I told him another place down the terminal. When he laughed, I related the above and he heeded my advice.) She handed me back my original receipt, and that was it. I paid with a credit card, so there wasn't anything necessarily to physically give me, but there was no button pushing on the register, either. We'll see if it shows up on my statement in a week.

[Disclaimer: I do realize that the quality of service (or lack thereof) of this particular, possibly franchised, establishment may not be indicative of the level of service of the entire chain. I can recall eating at at least two other Quiznos before, and getting my food in a timely enough manner. I've also worked for a number of years in the retail food business, so please don't try to tell me I should have been more respectful of the people who're only taking whatever jobs are available to them and/or that perhaps I don't understand the strains of the job.]

Funny condom ad

NSFW(OBA) not safe for work (or balloon animals)

the "outtakes" are pretty funny, too

clipped from www.boingboing.net

The Fed helps those who help themselves (to your money)

Why can we so readily approve giving away public funds (at a deficit, with no tax base to recover them) to banks and brokerage firms, but we have a hard time allocating money for regular Americans with genuine need?

I don't wish to debate the wisdom of helping the most wealthy out of a situation their own greed created, because they're "too big to fail." I believe business runs on access to available credit, and credit markets need to be relieved.

But if we all agree that the economy thrives when money changes hands, does it make better sense to bail out a corporation so they can cut their losses, bolster their profit, so stockholders have value in their holdings (emphasis on "holding"), or to give the money to people who will actually spend it?

I don't mean the stereotypically irresponsible things like flatscreens and Nintendo Wii's (I believe the huge corporate retail chains like Walmart will endure). But if instead of giving insurer AIG some $80 billion to keep them afloat, we floated some of those funds to people who've been most impacted by the economy, they could afford things - things like health insurance - and give companies that provide goods and services their much needed capital.

Now I'm going to speculate. (You may want to get your tinfoil hat.) Why can't we do this? You're still going to buy that flatscreen and latest-model iPod, aren't you? (if you're a good American, and do what you're told, you're going to go out and shop to help the economy.) But without available cash, you're going to buy them on credit. And for that, the banks make money, in the form of interest.

On the other hand, it's been shown that many people, with large consumer debt, given the funds would choose to lower their debit position. (e.g. pay off some of their credit cards.) This is good for consumers - it lowers their unsecured debt, lowers their interest payments, and gives them more funds to save, if only for that new iPod.

It is, however, bad news for a bank. It lowers their interest income and reduces their assets. Yes, the money you owe them is an asset. It is only "unsecured" to you, in that you don't have an asset (e.g. a house) to offset the debt. Recent changes in bankruptcy laws mean the bank will get its money, somehow. There is no risk that the poor, defenseless bank, who was only trying to help everyone it could by extending them all ridiculous amounts of credit, even to those evil cheats who lied about the stability of their employment, would get left twisting in the wind.

And if you don't get your own, personal infusion of bailout cash - if you can no longer pay your bills - even better for the bank. They now get to charge usury... I mean, the default interest rate, meaning it's going to cost you more money to not have any.

(You can take your hat off now. If the above made sense, then it was working.)

[the following text is stolen from TrueMajority.org]
The U.S. faces the most serious economic crisis since the Great Depression. Just how deep we go and how long the recession lasts depends upon how quickly we take steps to counter it.

The economy is hemorrhaging jobs at a frightful rate. For all of 2008, the economy lost a net total of 2.6 million jobs. That was the most since 1945, when nearly 2.8 million jobs were lost.
More than 300 of the country’s leading economists have called for immediate passage of a significant and broad-based jobs and economic recovery package.

A package must include investments in alternative energy technology to create millions of new jobs and generate billions in public revenue and tackle the issue of climate change and reduce our dependence on foreign oil.

We must also provide grants to state and local governments so that they will not be forced to raise taxes, layoff workers and cut services in the middle of a downturn.

Finally, we need investments in public infrastructure that will provide a crucial shot in the arm for the economy and create hundreds of thousands of good paying jobs to strengthen our middle class.

Lonely teen? Kill yourself - it's your only option, and it's funny, says Pepsi

For everyone horrified by the new Pepsi ads, everyone who's had a personal experience with suicide and is sickened by it, there's some yahoo saying, "it's just an ad, relax, it's funny."

Personally, I'm not so distraught by the idea, let alone graphical representation, of a cartoon blob killing itself, than I am by the belief that it's a fait accompli that's what you do when you're lonely. Not a smart message for the product's target demographic.

clipped from adage.com Pepsi Opens a Vein of Controversy With New Suicide-Themed Ads

From the comments:

People keep commenting how beautiful the Pepsi ad illustrations are, as if that mitigates the offense. It's like saying, "she killed her boyfriend, but she's gorgeous".

http://www.cloudoutloud.tv/2008/12/pepsi-suicide-ad-is-boring-in-a-disturbing-way/

– Michelle McCormack | Boston, MA

EULA-sive signal: there's no such thing as a free wi-fi

Like every other person with a laptop, I'm trying to get some work done while I wait for my plane. (real work, not this blog.) That work requires internet access. Like every other traveler who travels infrequently enough to not warrant a wireless broadband card, I'm lamenting having to pay through the nose for the same wi-fi access I can get free with a cup of coffee, or by merely sitting in the park.

The service is provided by Boingo. My choices are $5 for one hour, or $8 for 24 hours. The later would seem a bargain, if you expect to be waiting a while or, like me, will have a layover in Detroit for an hour and a half (see below). But wait! For $9.95* you can get service for a whole month! (* for 3 months, after which it's $22/month.)

These are called "teaser rates" (yes, like the one on your mortgage) or a form of low-balling. Low-balling is a sales technique where they get you to agree to a low price, so you start to consider the item yours already, then they raise the price, sometimes incrementally, a little at a time. Emotionally you want the item, and you (in your mind) have already made it yours, so a couple bucks more isn't going to dissuade you from your purchase - you're a fish on a hook now, and you're not going to walk away.

This is a typical car dealer tactic - they "cut" the sticker price, for you, 'cus you're nice, and they really want to sell it, and you really want to buy it, right? As you sit down to sign the paperwork, the sales person steps out to have a cigarette "talk to his boss," who unfortunately tells him he "can't sell it at that price," but "let's see what we can do." Then back out for some coffee to haggle with the boss, on your behalf, and they "come to a compromise" on the price - which is a lot more than you agreed to pay.

Then they start tacking on the "extras," or stuff you thought came with the car because, you know, it's on the one you looked at. ("Oh, no, that one sells for the sticker price. The price you agreed to is for a different car - one without a radio.")

Teasers are not like Leaders, which are sometimes ridiculously low prices, just to get you interested in buying something enough to get you into the store. Because if Leaders are like the price for regular gas (87 octane), then Teasers are Super (89), as compared to Premium (91), or the price of a medium soda at the theater (there is no small, so what's it in the middle of?) compared to the large. The difference in price is nominal, so since you've mentally agreed to the price point, why not get the much better/bigger item? Why buy 16 oz. of crap your body doesn't want or need (for half the price of the ticket), when "for just .35¢ more" you can have 32 oz? You're going to get your money's worth, dammit. (and do the peepee dance all through the third act of the film, because you have a 28 oz. bladder.)

I'm in an airport at most 2 times, every other month - usually much less. (And I usually plan it so I'm waiting less than an hour.) If I wanted unlimited wireless internet access for, say, my phone, it wouldn't cost me $22/month. This is for the desperate, not those with legitimate need.

But as it's only $10/month for the first 3, perhaps I can just sign up, then cancel. Canceling should be easy, right?

From the End User License Agreement:

Can I cancel my subscription?

1. Once your order is finalised, you cannot cancel it before the end of the subscription period you have requested, unless our service is not in accordance with this Agreement and that entitles you under normal legal rules to terminate your order.
2. You can prevent your subscription automatically renewing for a further period by notifying us before your present subscription ends in accordance with clause 15.1. [emphasis mine]

So, you have to request a cancellation before the subscription ends, but you're not actually allowed to cancel it at that time. This, I suspect, is what ropes people into fraudulently-named "free" credit reports and Girls Gone Wild videos. See, you have to make the request in writing. Their address is prominently displayed - at the bottom of the EULA, which you can see while you're inside any airport they service.

(My plane boarded rather soon after, so all ended up doing was starting to write this post.)

On to the layover in Detroit. After deplaning (and I always hear Hervé Villachaize saying that), I find out my connecting flight is the same friggin' plane I was just on. Though my stuff is safer with me than alone with the cleaning crew, I'm lugging it around the terminal now. One moving walkway away, I notice the Online Cafe, with people with laptops and little terminals at some of the booths. Perfect - I really do need to touch base with the office.

Ordering [second] breakfast, I'm now a paying customer of the Online Cafe. "I can has free wi-fi nau?" "No, not yours." It's $5 for 15 minutes (because who sits and eats longer than that?), but for only a few dollars more you get it for longer than you plan on being there. Fabulous. I'm expensing it, anyway.

(And I really did appreciate the waitress, very discreetly at the top of her lungs, announcing my login and password to the rest of the terminal. I'm the only one authorized to use it, so it's safe.)

Air Fair: Adventures in air travel, cont.

Ah, yes, another blog post griping about air travel. It's a lot like the weather, in that everyone complains about it, but most of us feel powerless to do anything other than check the internet frequently for updates to its status.

Where to begin? The beginning, of course, and that would be the Booking phase.

So I'm going through my company's corporate travel site, as I'm required to, to make my near monthly, last-minute flight reservation to Wisconsin (or as I like to call it, Chez Cheese). As is my custom, I skip right past the Deltas and the AirTrans (are they still in business?) and head straight for the Continentals. I like Continental - never had a problem, and check-in is a breeze as I can do it from my cell phone the day before, with my boarding pass sent straight to the phone.

$1300+change. Ouch. But, it's last-minute, right?

Our corporate travel policy makes the system spit back some alternate flights with lower fares. Fair enough, let's save money if we can. One flight on Northwest, leaving at the same time, is $400+change. Like the Continental, there's a layover in Detroit for an hour and a half, at the same time, landing in Milwaukee at the same time. That's when I notice the "operated by Northwest" on the Continental flight. Yes, they are one and the same plane - at three times the price. They're both Coach, the only difference is the Class code (more on that later).

Now, I'm all for saving the company money, and I don't need someone in the travel office asking me why I paid three times as much for the same plane, but dammit, Continental is where all my frequent flier miles are.

This is where I start to do the math. It's the same flight out, but different flights back. If I use the NWA return on the Cont. (say that out loud) departure, the price goes up, because technically it's mixed carriers, even though it's the same goddamned plane. So I try different options to attempt to figure out the NWA price for the same seat Cont. is charging me. I come to the conclusion that it's capricious and arbitrary.

So I call, and ask the Cont. Customer Service rep if they can do better on the price, seeing as it's the same plane and all. No. You see, even though it's the same coach seats on the same plane, same flight attendants, same room for baggage, there's those different classes - those determine the fare. With everything else being equal, what's the difference? The Elite Status frequent flier miles granted. (turns out NWA is a Cont. partner, and they share miles.)

Turns out the Cont. airfare is three times more because it comes with an extra 50% of frequent flier miles towards achieving Elite Status. (remember that "Status" thing for later.) For the algebraically-challenged, that's $400 for 500 miles or $1300 for 750 - one and a half times the miles, 3 times the price. As I type this, it occurs to me that I could have booked two flights on NWA (still less) and gotten two times the miles (more) - plus a lot more leg room. This is something I'll be sure to bring up to a booking agent.

Not seeing a way to make more miles for me sound like a bargain for the company, I go back and book a flight on NWA, 6 AM to Milwaukee, stopping in Detroit, which is now, the next day, curiously only $260.

Shortly, my wife calls. "Did you mean to fly out of LaGuardia?" Shit. Back to the site, cancel the flight, start the whole thing over again. Only now when I select the Cont. flight (now $1600, thank you), it says, "OK, paid, thanks." So much for that list of cheaper alternates I was expecting (I swear).

Remember all those reasons I said I liked Cont.? Gone. Not only can't I pick my seat, I can't check in for the "partner" flight online. So why exactly am I booking the flight through you, Cont.? The privilege of paying more money per mile?

So it looks like I'm a NWA flier now. I singed up for their program when I went to their site to get my boarding pass.

Remember all those "extra" Elite Status miles I'm getting for the Cont. price? Miles that, eventually, when you accumulate enough, you can redeem for things like First Class upgrades? NWA offers to upgrade me to First for $115. Yeah - one hundred fifteen dollars. In the end, instead of paying $500 for a First Class $400 flight, I pay $1600 for a $400 coach flight with an extra 250 miles that, someday, maybe, with a whole lot more miles, I may try to use to get an upgrade.

Epilogue: while I'm waiting in line to board the plane - general boarding, all rows, all seats - some guy comes up and says he has a First Class ticket and, because he missed the earlier announcement, he should get in front of me. I'd like to think that, had I not been up since 4 AM, I would have thought of something clever to say. I stepped past him.