An Open Letter to U.S. Airlines: Make It Easier for People to Say Yes to Travel

Why last-minute flight pricing discourages curiosity, connection, and movement

Every now and then a trip begins with a simple question.

“What if we just go?”

The best trips often begin exactly that way. Airline pricing should make it easier for people to say yes to that question—not punish them for asking it.

Some of the best travel experiences of my life started with that simple moment of curiosity.

One afternoon an alert popped up on my phone.

At the time I subscribed to one of those services that tracks mistake fares and unusually cheap airline tickets. Most alerts are interesting but impractical—some obscure route leaving on a Tuesday afternoon.

But this one was different.

Round-trip tickets to Missoula, Montana: $149.

I stared at the screen for a moment, trying to remember exactly where Missoula was.

Then I called my wife, Sunn.

“Do you want to go to Montana this weekend?” I asked.

She paused for a moment.

“What the hell is in Missoula?”

I laughed.

“I have no idea. Let’s find out.”

That was all the justification we needed.

We bought the tickets.

Sometimes curiosity is reason enough.

The Adventure Begins Before the Destination

On the day of departure we were already packed and getting ready to leave for the airport when a message appeared on my phone:

Flight canceled.

For a moment it looked like our spontaneous adventure was over before it even began.

But instead of unpacking, we decided to go to the airport anyway and see what might be possible.

Looking at the departure board, I noticed another flight leaving less than an hour later—same airline, heading to Bozeman, Montana.

So we walked up to the counter and asked if we could switch.

They said yes.

We flew to Bozeman that evening, spent the night there, and rented a car the next morning. I had already booked an Airbnb in Missoula that wasn’t refundable, so west we went.

Normally the drive takes about three hours.

It took us nearly seven.

We stopped constantly along the way—tiny towns, roadside diners, places we had never heard of before. At one point we pulled into a small barbecue restaurant somewhere along the highway. I wish I remembered the name of the town, but that’s part of spontaneous travel.

You don’t always remember the map.

You remember the feeling.

We lingered over lunch, drove a little farther, stopped again just because the mountains looked good in the distance.

Eventually we made it to Missoula.

But by then the destination hardly mattered.

The adventure had already happened.

The Trips That Matter Most

Years later, after Sunn passed away, I found myself thinking about that trip again.

What felt like a small spontaneous decision at the time had quietly become one of the memories I value most.

When someone you love is gone, you begin to understand something simple but powerful:

The moments when we say yes to life often become the memories we carry the longest.

Which is why the ability to travel—especially when curiosity strikes—matters more than we sometimes realize.

A Perspective From the Road

After traveling to roughly sixty countries over the years, I’ve come to appreciate something simple.

The world becomes much easier to understand when we actually see it for ourselves.

Different places operate differently. Different cultures think differently. Different communities live according to rhythms and assumptions we might never encounter if we stay close to home.

Travel has a quiet way of dissolving certainty.

It reminds us that the world is far larger, more diverse, and more interesting than our immediate surroundings.

And sometimes the most important thing a person can do is simply get out the door.

The Cost of Spontaneity

In many parts of Asia, flights tend to remain relatively consistent in price until close to departure. Tickets purchased a few days before travel might be somewhat higher than those purchased months ahead, but often only modestly so.

Ten percent more. Perhaps twenty.

The difference is noticeable (and sometimes not), but rarely prohibitive.

Because of that, something interesting happens.

People move.

A friend hears about a concert in another city.
Someone unexpectedly has a long weekend free.
A group decides on Thursday that they’ll spend the weekend somewhere new.

They simply go.

Spontaneous travel becomes part of everyday life.

In the USA, however, spontaneity is often priced out of existence.

Recently I checked flights from Minneapolis to Los Angeles. If I wanted to travel within a few days, the cost was over $1,100.

The exact same flights purchased a month in advance were $309.

Nothing about the aircraft changed.
Nothing about the seat changed.
Nothing about the route changed.

Only the timing.

And the difference in price was nearly fourfold.

Of course airlines are businesses. No one expects otherwise. The airline industry operates on tight margins and complicated logistics.

But pricing structures also shape behavior.

When spontaneous travel becomes financially inaccessible, people simply stay home.

A Lesson From the Past

Years ago, an airline based in Minneapolis—Northwest Airlines—offered something called Cybersavers.

Every Tuesday they released a small list of routes at extremely low prices for the coming weekend. Presumably these were flights that hadn’t sold well and needed passengers.

I loved those fares.

And I used them constantly.

Many times I flew to New York City simply because the price made the trip irresistible. Friends lived there, and suddenly a weekend visit made perfect sense.

Other times the deals took me somewhere unexpected—New Orleans, Las Vegas, even Iceland.

The destination almost didn’t matter.

The opportunity did.

Those trips happened because the door was open.

And some of my favorite travel memories exist because it was easy to walk through it.

The Human Side of Last-Minute Travel

There is another dimension to last-minute travel that deserves consideration.

Some of the most expensive airline tickets people buy are purchased on the worst days of their lives.

A sick parent.

A sudden hospitalization.

A funeral.

A family emergency.

In those moments people are not comparison shopping. They are simply trying to get somewhere they need to be.

Yet the current pricing structure often means urgency comes with the highest possible price.

Historically airlines offered bereavement fares intended to ease that burden. Today those options exist in limited form and often require phone calls, documentation, or approval processes at the exact moment people are already overwhelmed.

When someone is rushing to say goodbye to a loved one, the airline pricing system should not become another obstacle.

An Opportunity

This letter is not meant as criticism.

It is meant as an invitation.

Airlines play a unique role in shaping how people experience their country and the wider world.

Pricing strategies influence whether people travel frequently—or rarely.

Encouraging spontaneous travel does more than fill seats.

It encourages curiosity.

It encourages connection.

It encourages people to explore communities and cultures they might otherwise never experience.

And when people see more of the world for themselves, their understanding of it grows.

A Simple Thought

Every seat on every flight represents a story waiting to unfold somewhere else.

A visit with family.

A wedding.

A reunion.

A new city.

A small adventure someone didn’t expect.

Some of the best experiences in life begin with a simple question:

“What if we just go?”

The airlines that make it easier for people to say yes to that question won’t just fill more seats.

They’ll help more people discover the world.

And when more people move through the world—when they see more places, meet more people, and experience more cultures—the world tends to become a little more curious, a little more understanding, and a little less certain that any one place has all the answers.

Respectfully,
Derrik Dyka