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The terror of Trivago's tube takeover

By Jon Beach | Creative

August 24, 2017 | 3 min read

The Trivago woman is everywhere.

She has a blue shirt and stands to the left.

Trivago ad

Trivago ad underground

She has ideal hotels. At the best prices. She wants you to know about them. But that’s not all she wants.

She wants you to know that wherever you’re going, she’ll be there. Arms to the side. Staring into the very fabric of your soul.

Her vacant stare of death lies in wait around every corner, and along every tunnel. Her eyes burn into my back as I’m fumbling for my Oyster card. She wants me to know that she's watching.

She destroys my days, and haunts my nights.

I’m awake at 3am, trembling, thrashing, rambling, rummaging through my brain looking for answers.

What could she possibly want?

I want ideal hotels at the best prices. Of course I do. Who wouldn’t.

But more than anything I want to go back to my old self.

A happier time. A time when She Wasn’t Around. A time when I could commute in pleasancy.

For now I’ll pull the duvet up around my neck and close my eyes tight.

Because tomorrow I’ll have to see her again.

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The Trivago woman is everywhere.

There is no escape.

There is no happy ending to this vacation.

There is just her, her eyes, and ideal hotels for the best prices.

Ideal hotels for the best prices.

Ideal hotels for the best prices.

Ideal hotels for the best prices.

Ideal hotels for the best prices.

Jon Beach is a freelance creative, FCBInferno.

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