Confssions of a Priceline Junkie

I love to travel so you might imagine I'm proficient with all the ins and outs of booking travel-related services online. I'm also a sucker for a bargain, but for some reason, I'd been leery of ever using Priceline--the old "name your own price" site that claims big savings on hotel rooms, car rentals, etc. The big catch here is that you do not get to know the actual hotel/car rental co/etc you'll be using until after you have provided a price you're willing to spend and it's been accepted. At that point, you are fully committed. Well, fully committed to paying what you offered--even if you don't end up using the room/car.

The thought of paying half as much as the best advertised deal was enticing but still, I have been to nervous to try it. The hangup of not knowing exactly what you're going to get and yet you've plunked down your money and are stuck with it was insurmountable to me. What if the deal sucks even if the price was right? It's like the Survivor Auction where Jeff Probst harks a covered plate that the famished players assume is a juicy hamburger or steak or cookies and milk. They proffer their limited funds only to learn in the unveiling that it's a plate of elephant intestines or some other equally disgusting, I'd-rather-eat-my-own-hand-than-eat-that type of thing.

What happens if, say, you're in need of a rental car in Chicago and the best rate for a full size is $50/day. So you Priceline it and offer $25/day. The deal is accepted and you are now committed, only to learn the rental company is Joe's Clunkers, whose motto is "You'll be lucky if you get there but at least we're cheap!"

Now, you wouldn't think a company the caliber of Priceline (with the kind of ad budget they clearly have) would be working with C-tier companies and lower but again, it's that not-knowing-for-sure factor that threw me off and prevented me from taking the plunge.

So the other day, I sent two sales reps on the road--two grown men. They asked if I could book them a hotel room in Indy and another in Nashville. I searched around, called some places and pointblank asked for better rates (denied) before finally visiting Priceline. You can do a basic search on there of hotels and rates rather than the "name your own" so that's what I did first. Found a three star hotel in the Indy area for only $74.

Hmmm...3 stars for $74. Pretty good. Dare I try the Name Your Own option? I realized that by being able to put in a minimum star-quality along with your price, maybe that was the safety valve to ensure you didn't end up at the House of Roaches No-Tell Motel. And besides, it wasn't ME who was going to have to sleep in the place if it did stink. Why not try it out with some guinea pigs? Hehe. Alright, I joke but I truly would have felt bad if they got stuck staying in some crappy location. Particularly since one of the travelers was my spouse, who I'd never heard the end of it from. Still, men they were and they could tough out a place even if it was somewhat sketchy, and best case, I scored big time with a nice place for sketchy-place-prices.

I decided to gamble and keyed in a three star minimum hotel for $60 a night. Hit the Submit and held my breath. A short while later I was rewarded with a "Your price has been accepted" page. Sure, sure, great. But where? Turns out, the FOUR-star downtown Marriott was desperate enough to fill rooms that they took a $60 offer. YES! A Marriott. Synonymous with: stylish hotel. Never have run up on a crappy Marriott. I was positively thrilled--big time, name brand hotel for a reeeee-diculous price. I saved the company money and the guys would be sleeping high style. I texted them the news and they were thrilled.

Wow--what had I been so scared of, I thought? I should've been using Priceline all along! Dare I press my luck with the Nashville room? Why the hell not!

I keyed in another three-star for $60 request in the hoity-toity Brentwood area and was kicked back a "too bad, so sad, no one would take those peanuts" message. I could either up my ante or expand the area I was willing to have them stay. So I expanded the area and tried my $60 luck a second time. This go'round, I scored again. A 3.5 star (again, the upgrade!) hotel accepted my offer. Where, where? I breathlessly scanned the page. My rate was accepted at the Hotel Preston.

Wait. What? The Hotel What? Oh lord, I've never heard of the Hotel Preston. Visions of roach infested hallways and hairy bedspreads raced through my mind. A sleazy, neon- and smoke-filled joint that offered coin-operated beds and towels you could see through. The guys would never forgive me--but I'd already committed my $60. They had to stay there. I was sick. Damn you, Priceline! Suckered me in with the Marriott and then hit me with the Hotel NeverHeardOfIt.

After googling Hotel Preston as fast as my fingers would type with a nauseated stomach, I came up with the hotel's website and relaxed a bit. It may not be a major chain location but it looked pretty good, I had to admit. Dubbed a boutique hotel, it did look swank. I only hoped they company hadn't shortchanged the sheets and carpet in favor of investing into a fancy website.

With gushing assurances that the hotel would be great (just great!) I let the guys know their Nashville location. Upon arrival the next day, the two reported that the place was indeed magnificent, with plush robes in the rooms, a modern feel, a Pillow Menu (huh?) and even a Spiritual Menu (Koran, anyone?).

The Hotel Preston scare proved to be pointless. Priceline came through not only with a fancy-big name hotel the first night, but the NeverHeardOfIt also ended up being well worth the pittance I paid for them to stay there.

My fears about Priceline were for naught. I've now reserved cars through them as well and learned that they only deal with quality places. Best of all, if you key in an offer and don't find a taker, it's no harm, no foul to you. So it doesn't hurt to at least try. I love finding good deals so I could resist sharing this story. If you like to travel or you travel for work, give it a whirl. I myself am officially now a Priceline junkie.

Adding a Pound

I hate that Summer days rush by faster than Winter days, but I'm doing my best to soak up every minute of them. Have big news of late. After three+years of cohabitating with us, my mother in law just moved into her own apartment. That is exciting for her and cool for us too. I actually love my mother in law. She's not your typical nosey, give her opinion whether you want it or not type of mother in law. Rather, she was a great addition here, always willing to house-sit, baby-sit, pet-sit or help wherever else needed. She was a joy to have around, not to mention being a great sounding board when I was having an off day.

But she decided after a life of living with and relying on someone else, she wanted to try living alone. I can appreciate this because I lived alone for a long time and loved it. And though I love her very much and welcome her back at any point, there is something nice about having our house back to our immediate family only. So about a week ago, we helped her move to an apartment. And it was then that our immediate family grew by one. One pound, that is.

After pulling into the parking lot, we hopped out, ready to muscle up the couch to her (thankfully) ground floor apartment. And it was then that a welcoming sentry called to us from outside my mother in law's new front door: the soft, squeaky meow of a baby kitten too soon away from her mother and too long away from food.

A calico sprite no bigger than your hand beckoned us. She couldn't have been more than 4, 4 1/2 weeks old and was the sweetest thing. We scooped her up and with eyes that couldn't be refused, I turned to John. No way could I leave her behind. I knew this about myself; he knew this about me. Chase had her named before we got her back home: Snickers, in honor of her black and brown coloring and sweet self.

My two Biggie-sized cats were not thrilled with the newcomer and were audible with their displeasure. But just a couple days in, Raven--the mushier, sweeter of the two--had already adapted and was playing with the kitten and having a big time. Max--the larger and more ornery of the two--still cares not for a fellow feline a fraction his size. But he's learning to tolerate, if not exactly like, the little fluff. Dr Adams, the world's greatest vet, cleared her of all terrible feline diseases, weighed her officially as a scale-tipping one pound, and she was flea and smell-free, leading me to believe she isn't feral but simply left in a populated area for some kindhearted sucker to take in. That's me: the sucker.

So Megan's Menagerie has grown by one. Meet the Snicker doodle:

Waking Up to a Nightmare

So the only people reading this who do not realize I love dogs more than any other human being on the planet loves dogs are those reading for the first time. A close second--I'll give him that--is my husband. And ranking 3rd in line for the most love exhibited between man and dog is Teddy the beagle, my husband's dog who loves and adores John more than I can explain. He's practically co-dependent. Check that; he is co-dependent.

It is very sweet though; Teddy truly is a great, very loving and lovable dog.

Except when he's waking us up every 2-3 hours at night to be let out of his crate so he can slurp down a gallon of water, hit the yard for some "business," and then return to the comfort of his pillow for more snooze time. I realize that the gallons of water nonsense is what most logical folks would think is the hiccup in curing this hellish disruption of our beauty sleep. Gallons of water at 2:00 am just begs for a 4:30 wake up. But Teddy is constantly suffering from UTIs and it's usually the extreme thirst that has him barking that notorious Beagle bark from his crate more so than the need to relieve himself. And to deny the water seems cruel.

So alas, we have fought this battle for an eternity and after much medication to ensure there was no medical reason for getting up so often, we and our vet decided this must be bad habit now and we devised a new plan designed to get us back to wakeless nights of sleep. The new plan is to put Teddy in my son's playroom which has a door to our fenced back yard. That door is equipped with a dog door through which the T can go in and out for water or pee time as often as his furry self desires. We have to close off the playroom because of my two cats that are not permitted outside.

Other than the occasional chirp from outside in the middle of the night, this has been working pretty well until about 6:30-7 a.m. when Teddy's patience with being separated from John runs out and he expresses his irritation with that incessant "I know you can hear me and I'm not going to stop disturbing the peace until you give me what I want" Beagle bark outside the back door. Our neighbors love us, I'm sure.

The other morning, we hit 7:00 and hadn't heard Teddy "calling" to us to come in all night. Shocker. John went down to let in the pup and discovered the reason the back yard was suspiciously bark-free. We'd left one of our gates unlatched and Teddy's Beagle nose had led him into the free world. He'd been out all night long and there was no telling where he'd be.

We do have a collar on him with a name/phone number tag, but naturally, who would've been up to spot him throughout the night? No one. He could've wandered quite a ways away, been struck by a car on the busy main road, or been picked up by someone who decided they'd like to keep such a sweet, friendly dog. We were scared to death.

John hit the streets walking and whistling for Teddy. I hopped in the car and drove the neighborhood, stopping to ask all I saw if they'd spied a wandering Beagle. No one had. I ventured out onto the main road and instinct told me to turn left. We're surrounded by neighborhoods; surely one of the umpteen joggers had seen him. Still, no dice. One guy told me he'd just run from all the way up that road in the direction I was headed and did not see a dog. And Teddy is friendly enough that he'd definitely have come and jogged along with someone he saw out there. My hopes dashed.

I pulled into a neighborhood with the intention of quickly turning around in a driveway and going the other way. But something told me to drive on ahead. "A few more houses and then I'll turn around," I thought. I drove by a few more houses, and something said to just keep driving. All the way to the end of the road I drove and entered the culdesac, forced to turn back. But suddenly, there he was. Out of the corner of my eye came the T, running after my car.

I scooped up his smelly, dew and grass covered self, never more thrilled to see him. We found John walking and headed home.

If you love dogs, you know the fear we felt that morning. It ended well, thank God, but talk about waking up to a nightmare.

Note: It is upsetting the number of people who lose a beloved animal and never had a collar or tag on them with owner's name and number. Regardless of all the precautions on the world, your pet could get away when you least expect it. The odds of him/her returning is 100 fold if they have your name and number on them somewhere obvious. Invest in a $5 ID tag and rest a little easier.