Airbnbad

Do you know who the best people in the world are?

Nuns? Buddhist monks? Trader Joe’s employees?

Airbnb hosts. These gracious people rent out their homes to tourists, welcoming us with open arms and bottles of wine. They tell us all the sights we simply must see. During our stay, they promptly respond to any questions or concerns we may have. By the end of the visit, we are like family. 

“Arrivederci, my Italian sister! 

“Au Revoir, my French brother!”

What makes them so caring? Is it genetic? Are these hospitable people all born with a supersize caring gene? I’ve never met an airbnb host I didn’t like…

Then I met Marlene.

Marlene was trouble from the get-go (not gecko).

After a long day of travel, we arrived at Marlene’s place in Salzburg. It was after 9 PM and all the grocery stores were closed. Marlene had mentioned that welcome drinks would be waiting for us.

Excellent! 

After we settled in, we went in search of the refreshing beverages we had been promised. 

I scanned the counter. Nothing.

My daughter opened the fridge. Empty.

My husband looked in the freezer. Nein.

Did she hide them? 

Hey, I’m all for scavenger hunts but a clue would be nice.

My husband texted, “Hi Marlene, you said something about welcome drinks…”

She responded, “I’ll drop them off tomorrow.” Then she added, “Don’t forget to look over the binder.”

THE BINDER was a notebook, titled, “HOUSE RULES,” and contained an in depth list of procedures that each guest must follow. Rivaling the length of the Bible, we knew we were in for a long night.

This mandated house orientation covered everything from opening the balcony door: ONLY TURN KNOB ¼ ROTATION AND PULL VERY GENTLY OR YOU COULD DAMAGE DOOR, to bathroom shower etiquette: OPEN BATHROOM WINDOWS IMMEDIATELY FOLLOWING A SHOWER TO PREVENT MOLDY ODORS! 

Around the time we got to the Excessive Noise Chapter: NO LOUD NOISE EVER! I began to wonder if I had mistakenly booked a prison cell.

“I need fresh air,” I told my husband, heading to the balcony.

“Be careful!” My husband cautioned.

My hand froze on the knob.

Was it a ¼ or a ½ turn? Do I push or pull? Are there cameras watching?

I returned to the couch, next to my dozing daughter, and elbowed her awake.

“Only use pods in the washing machine,” she mumbled.

Marlene’s manifesto finally concluded with: FAILURE TO LEAVE KEYS IN DESIGNATED LOCK BOX WILL RESULT IN FINES!

Exhausted from orientation and dehydrated from lack of welcome drinks, we went to bed.

Marlene stopped by the next morning. She handed us two beers. 

There were three of us.

Did one of us not look thirsty?

She also brought us a large supply of coffee pods for the coffee maker.

That’s better.

Marlene, who was pleasant and attractive, didn’t match the persona of the fascist author of THE BINDER. 

After chatting for a few minutes, Marlene said. “Well, I better get back to work,”

“What do you do?” I asked, thinking she was a shop owner. For some reason, I assume everybody in Europe owns a shop.

“I’m a doctor,” she said.

My husband and I looked at each other.

Who’s the jerk now?

Here we were complaining about welcome drinks and manifestos when Doctor Marlene was busy saving lives. Right now, there’s probably a guy (We’ll call him Bob) waiting for a kidney. And because of us, he has to wait a little longer.

Tick, tock! Run, Marlene, run! Get Bob that kidney!

“What kind of doctor?” my husband asked.

“A podiatrist.”

Bob can wait.

“So I noticed in THE BINDER, that we need to mop after we shower,” I said.

She nodded. “It’s no big deal, just some light mopping.”

I love when my airbnb comes with chores.

After Marlene left, we decided to have coffee. Marlene had left so many pods we could have coffee several times a day if we wanted, except for one problem…

The oval coffee pod was bigger than its designated oval home. 

We texted Marlene that she had given us the wrong pods.

Marlene responded with a video on how to operate your coffee machine.

Hey, Marlene, we may not be able to remove bunions, but I’m pretty sure we can make coffee.

Marlene promised to stop by later and take a look.

Marlene’s promises were as empty as our coffee cups.

The following day we contacted Marlene with a different request, “May we please have the code to the garage so we can use the bikes?”

According to THE BINDER, bicycles were available to use. Since we were in Austria, we were looking forward to pedaling around town, singing “Sixteen Going on Seventeen,” or in my case, “Fifty-two Going on Fifty-three.”

But, once again: no response.

“I think Marlene is ghosting us,” our daughter said.

However, as much as we didn’t appreciate being “ghosted,” that didn’t even come close to the true horror that Marlene inflicted upon us…

Mopping.

And not just any mopping… naked mopping!

What kind of story is this?

Thankfully, one without pictures.

Allow me to explain about what Marlene had casually referred to as “no big deal,” and “some light mopping.”

Marlene, you pathological liar.

As stated in THE BINDER, following each shower, GUESTS MUST MOP UP EXCESS WATER!

Isn’t the shower door responsible for keeping water in, so post-shower mopping is NOT required? I’m pretty sure that’s one of the shower door’s main attractions.

Unfortunately, Marlene’s diabolical shower door was designed to cover only half the shower area. In addition, there was no metal track to stop water from seeping out. However, the real kicker was that the bathroom was built on a slant so that water drained away from the shower. This resulted in Marlene’s bathroom becoming a wading pool after each shower.

We held a family meeting to discuss the situation. Not showering seemed like the safest option, but in the end, hygiene won.

We decided to take extremely efficient showers, which went something like this:

Turn on shower.

FREEZING!

Shampoo head. Lather, scrub, lather.

Uh, oh, water is trickling past the shower door.

Lather, scrub, lather, faster, faster, faster!

Trickle has turned into a stream.

Shut off water. Jump out of shower. (Don’t actually jump, it’s slippery.)

Retrieve broom, divert water back into shower.

You missed a puddle.

Mop, mop, mop!

Mop like nobody’s watching!

Good job.

Return broom to designated spot.

Turn water back on.

Holy Binder, it’s still cold! 

Remember, cold water is proven to reduce stress. Don’t you feel relaxed?

Rinse hair, observe water level.

Conditioner on head, soap on body.

Oh, yes, water is finally warming up. Oh, no, water is flowing out of shower. 

Scrub, scrub, scrub! Clean, clean, clean!

Water rising, racing towards cupboards!

Abort washing, turn off shower.

Grab broom, mop, mop, mop!

Good God, Woman, is that the best you can do? Put your legs into it. Squat and Mop!

Ignore conditioner running into eyes. Close eyes, keep on mopping!

Ouch! That’s going to leave a mark.

Return broom.

Turn shower back on, monitor water level with non-soapy eye…

I think you get the idea.

And so our week at Marlene’s continued… so much mopping, so little coffee.

We finally heard from Marlene the day we checked out, informing us to LEAVE KEYS IN DESIGNATED LOCKBOX OR WE WOULD BE FINED! 

She also reminded us to write a review.

I don’t think that will be a problem.