The scene: a workplace, fluorescent strip lighting oozes from the ceiling. Whey-faced clones play an atonal symphony on muted keyboards. Unreflecting eyes stare at computer screens. If there were a soundtrack it would be Radiohead, something from one of the 'difficult' later albums.
But what's this? What spark of life animates one of the faces? What has this 21st century Winston Smith discovered that makes his fingers dance across the keys, his hand reach for the mouse with something like enthusiasm? He takes out a credit card. He types a sequence of numbers. It is done. The kindling has taken and the escape fantasy burns. The holiday is booked.
Back in the Nineties, internet evangelists predicted that we would soon be doing everything online. One bear market later and we are left with a bunch of abandoned toothpastetoyourdoor.com URLs and some very good travel websites.
There are some things we don't like buying over the internet, but we do like buying holidays. Online sales in the travel market outstrip pretty much every other sector, including internet flagship stuff such as books and music - $30-$35 billion in the US and ¤10-¤15bn in Europe in 2004. OK, holidays are expensive, so the numbers are big, but travel shows one of the biggest online migrations as a proportion of sales - about 20 per cent are now bought over the internet.
Why does the internet work for holidays? For one thing, it helps that there is no tangible product to deliver. You could have the best website in the world, but it's not going to get much custom if the 12ft inflatable replica Eiffel Towers keep getting lost in the post. But with a holiday or a flight the customer feels the satisfaction of possessing the product the very moment the transaction is complete.
Holidays have also traditionally required a lot of advance planning, and are likely to be one of the biggest luxury outlays in the average household budget.
Ingeniously, the internet takes something that used to require daunting amounts of organisation and turns it into an act of spontaneity. Not only is the hassle cut out of the process, but there is the added frisson of blowing big money in the click of a mouse. Oops! Should have been checking that PowerPoint presentation for the boss, accidentally booked myself 10 days in Ibiza.
Lastminute deserves credit for cultivating this idea. Countless sites piggy-backed on the marketing investment Martha Lane Fox and co. made persuading people to toggle between a spreadsheet and a weekend in Reykjavik.
The business model is pretty sound too. You don't need a warehouse or a shop. No overheads. And, if I remember right, when we used to go into travel agents, there was a lot of sitting anxiously while someone typed cryptically into a database. 'I'm sorry, I can only find you a flight via Kathmandu at 4am.' It can't have been that hard. And clearly it wasn't, since we can do it ourselves now. Convenience and empowerment.
A caveat: it's no good if the site doesn't work. Staring at the Windows don't-bother-me-I'm-thinking hourglass icon while your credit card details vanish from the screen can snap a fragile mind. Hall of shame: 1) BA - offering a discount online when the site doesn't work on Macs - and apparently never will - is plain spiteful; 2) Virgin - how can a London to Manchester return by train possibly cost £180? No, please tell me. How?
The scene: the same office as before. One of the drone workers stands briskly, takes the computer from the desk and hurls it through awindow, then goes off on holiday.
· Rafael Behr is The Observer's online editor
