The Price of Showing Up
For the executive, every trip is a five-figure gamble. For the planner, every banquet and ballroom is a budgetary minefield. Together, they face the same test: make the event worth the cost.
I’ve earned my miles. I’ve done my time in the middle seat, knees jammed, laptop tray trembling with turbulence, watching the pretzels run out in row 28. I’ve jogged through O’Hare at midnight, taken red-eyes to save a client a few bucks, and sat in ballrooms running on nothing but caffeine and willpower. Those were the dues.
Now, at this stage in my career, I travel differently. Not out of vanity, but necessity. Travel isn’t about “being there.” It’s about being there correctly.
Which is why the cost of attending a September conference lands like a slap.
Three nights in a Midtown hotel: $800 a night. A bill that once totaled $1,000 is now $2,400 before I’ve unpacked a suit. Add a $1,500 registration fee, a business-class flight north of $1,200, and the tally is already creeping past five grand. That’s before taxis, tips, or the obligatory $18 airport sandwich.
And then there’s dinner. Once a perk, now a pressure point. A simple networking meal slides past $200 per head with wine, and even on an expense account, the CFO is watching. I hear their voice in my head as I click “submit receipt”: Was that salmon worth it? Did that cabernet close a deal?
Behind the calm face, my inner thought bubble is blunt: This conference better be worth it.
Behind the Scenes: The Planner’s Math
While I feel the sting in my wallet, the planner feels it in their spreadsheet.
Hotels are tightening supply. Luxury RevPAR is up 7–8% this year, the only segment still rising while other tiers soften. Average daily rates in New York hover at $314, but September peaks push well past $400–$430. Ballrooms that once rented for $20,000 now command $30,000, with food-and-beverage minimums that eat budgets alive.
And F&B? It’s ballooned to nearly 30% of the average event budget — about $940 per attendee. The coffee urns and canapé trays are no longer harmless fluff; they’re line items that could fund a junior hire.
Airfare is the wild card that ruins the curve. Airlines hiked fares by double digits: +18% in economy, +20% in premium economy, and +25% in business class compared to last year. On major corridors like New York–LA, business seats hover at $1,200–$1,400, almost double what they cost five years ago. Airlines are upfront: they’re charging more because executives will pay.
So the planner trims, negotiates, shifts. Maybe they move the meeting to Charlotte instead of Manhattan. Maybe they book in October shoulder season, not September peak. Maybe they gamble on hybrid. But at the end of the day, the math is merciless: every attendee is a five-figure bet once the receipts stack up.
Déjà Vu of 2007
It feels familiar. During the 2007–2009 recession, companies slashed travel, and conferences went lean. Regional summits replaced global spectacles, dinners moved from Michelin to private dining rooms, and “local” became a badge of prudence.
With today’s economic jitters, that muscle memory is stirring again. Executives like me whisper: Do I need to fly to New York, or could I accomplish the same in my own city? Planners whisper back: Let’s rotate. Let’s decentralize. Let’s build value without burning through budgets.
The New Contract
That’s the unspoken contract now:
For the attendee — If I’m spending five grand, give me what I can’t get anywhere else: transformative content, networking that matters, outcomes I can measure.
For the planner — If I’m bleeding to negotiate hotel blocks and F&B minimums, you’d better show up fully, not half-scrolling through email in the back row.
Both sides are right. Both sides are tense. And both sides know the truth: in 2025, the cost of getting there has become part of the show itself.
And unless the event justifies that price — with memory, meaning, and measurable impact — the thought bubble above every executive’s head will remain the same: This conference better be worth it.
