If I were smart about money – which I’m not – I’d quickly get me one of those short-term rental permits from the Borough of State College, rent out my house for the Dec. 21-22 weekend and dash off to New York City for a dose of holiday cheer.
Some of you, I’m sure, are way ahead of me: You’ve looked at what local hotels are charging the weekend Penn State plays SMU and graduating seniors get their diplomas – well over a thousand bucks a night, on average. You’ve adjusted your Airbnb or VRBO rates accordingly and reserved a room in the Big Apple, knowing you’ll more or less break even — provided you resist the urge to spring for $30 pastrami sandwiches at lunchtime.
In case you’ve missed news coverage of what rooms are going for next weekend: As of yesterday, you could still get a booking for those Friday and Saturday nights at the Country Inn & Suites by Radisson for $1676 per night; at the Hampton Inn & Suites for $1439; at the Holiday Inn Express for $1437; at the Fairfield Inn & Suites for $1326; at the Best Western Plus University Park Inn for $1043; and – here’s the bargain – at the Nittany Budget Motel for $887. (Maybe those other hotels charge by the number of letters in their names.)
For the fun of it, I checked the rates at these same hotels for a week later, Friday and Saturday, Dec. 28-29: $156, $126, $122, $121, $110 and $103.
That’s right, the same room costs 10 times more one week than it does seven days later. An economist will call this the law of supply and demand. A critic of the prevailing ethos might prefer invoking the term for what you’re supposed to do to a shark’s eye if the shark attacks you.
Also for the fun of it, I called a couple of the hotels to ask if they were really charging what the booking sites said they were charging or if it was bum information.
“I don’t know if you’re aware,” one front desk jockey told me, “that there’s a playoff football game that weekend.”
“Hmmm,” I said. “Still…”
“I know it’s crazy,” he said.
The room rates, he meant, not that the Nittany Lions made the playoffs.
I asked another front desk person what I could expect to get for $1400 a night. Golden slippers? Satin dressing gowns? Free spa treatments? Designer chocolates on the pillows, at least?
She was sorry to have to tell me that the hotel wasn’t going to provide any of those amenities.
It’s early, meteorologically, I know, but the current forecast for Game Day is “a touch of sleet in the morning; otherwise, low clouds. High 38.” Not as miserable as it could be on the first day of winter, but certainly colder than it will be in most people’s houses, which, I’d like to point out, offer much more convenient access to bathrooms and salty snacks than Beaver Stadium does.
Ah, but can you put a price on the excitement of seeing the game live, and sharing the thrill of victory and the heartbreak of defeat with 100,000 other lunatics? I don’t know if I can, but I’m quite sure $1400 a night is too much.
In truth, I wouldn’t go if I got a free ticket, even with being able to sleep in my own bed and put chocolates on my own pillow. I’ve been to Beaver Stadium: Too cramped. Too loud for my tender ears. Too cold for my tender tootsies.
People say baseball is boring. Did you know there are 11 minutes of action in an hour-long football game? I’d watch a rerun of an A’s-White Sox game on TV during those hours before I’d watch Lions-Mustangs.
Which brings us back to renting out the house and skipping town for the weekend. I’ve done it twice, back in the days before one needed a short-term rental permit. Both times, it was Arts Fest weekend; both times it was the same two Penn State alumni couples, who, by the look of them, had aged out of beer pong.
They were, indeed, model guests: no messes, no broken crockery. As far as I could tell, no one rummaged through my underwear drawer. I think we charged $400 a night. Chump change. I hear there are homeowners in State College who are charging $2000 per night next week. Forget New York. We could go to Paris on that kind of dough.
It may be too late for me to get a short-term rental license from the borough before Dec. 20. I could go rogue, though. The penalty for renting without a license is $300, which, given what the market will bear, would be a reasonable cost of doing business – provided I skip those pastrami sandwiches.
Just so you know: Rental of my house wouldn’t come with gilt slippers or fancy bathrobes or mani-pedis. There will, however, be chocolates on the pillows.
