Corporate Factotum

I went to Phoenix.  

I booked an Airbnb downtown.  It was summer in Phoenix so Airbnbs were cheap. Phoenix becomes an oven in the summer.  I had my own bedroom, bathroom, kitchen and living room for cheap, so life was good.

One night, after playing poker until around 10 PM, I came back to the Airbnb. I twisted the door knob. The door was open. I had forgotten to lock the door.

I walked inside.  The lights were off.  The TV was on.  Trash was strewn about.  A Swiffer mop leaned up against the kitchen sink.  My first thought was that the Airbnb cleaning person was here.

What an odd time to clean.  They sure are doing a shitty job.

Someone was sleeping on the couch.  I did not know this person.

“Hello?”

No response.  

I went back outside.  I locked the door this time.  I messaged the Airbnb host.  

Someone is in the unit.  

I waited 7 seconds for a response.

I called 911.

“911”

“I am in an Airbnb.  There is someone in my Airbnb” 

“Do you know this person?”

“No”

“We will send someone”

“Thanks”

I made small talk with the operator.  I am good at small talk.  I told her I was friends with a cop where I lived in Denver.  

“Cool…please stay on the line, sir”

The first cop arrived.  He was quite young.  Too young to be a cop I thought.  I wondered if there was a “right” age for cops.  He asked me questions.  Cops like asking questions.

“Do you know the person in your Airbnb?”

“No”

His friendly demeanor and boyish face put me at ease.  I wondered if he was Mormon.  He felt like the placeholder until the real cops arrived.

The next cop arrived.  The first cop was Good Cop.  This was Bad Cop.  He asked me many more questions.

“Do you know the person in the Airbnb?”

“No”

“Did you give a key or code to anyone for the Airbnb?”

“No”

“Are you absolutely sure no one else has a key to your place?”

“Yes”

“Did you tell anyone at all for any reason to come to your place?”

“No”

I felt like I was on the witness stand.  

Two more cops arrived.  I regurgitated my story to them.  The newest cop asked me if I wanted to press charges.  I had no idea if I wanted to press charges.  I called my cop friend in Denver.  I explained the situation.

“Should I press charges?”

“Yes.  If you don’t, this person will do other bad stuff”

“OK”

Another cop arrived.  I told this one that I would like to press charges.

Two additional squad cars arrived at the scene.  I thought to myself “Now would be the time to go commit crime in Phoenix”

A crowd of onlookers had started to gather.  They probably thought an entire family was murdered.  

This was getting out of hand.  I walked back up to Good Cop.  I liked him the most.

“I’m pretty sure it’s just a passed out tweaker on the couch”

Another officer’s voice came from Good Cop’s radio.

“WE’RE SENDING IN THE DRONE!!!”

Nine cops and a drone for a passed out tweaker.  Christ.  At least these weren’t my tax dollars.

The drone confirmed the presence of a sleeping tweaker on the couch.  I pictured the tweaker waking up to a piece of flying metal and plastic hovering above them.

The cops mobilized.  They detained and removed the tweaker.  The premise was secure.  The police escorted me safely back into my Airbnb.  The air conditioning felt nice.

We began a damage report.  The tweaker had eaten the following:

1 mango

2 bananas

1 packet of Top Ramen

The cops began a damage calculation.

“Hey, Johnson – how much is a mango these days!?!”

“Probably like 7 dollars!” Johnson guffawed.

The cops were now comedians.  I now wanted them to leave.  

The cops informed me I would be mailed updates on the case.  I declined to be a witness.  

The cops left.  There were pieces of mango, banana, and ramen noodles all over.  The counters and floor were sticky.  I began cleaning.  I wondered if I would somehow be reimbursed for the food.

The Airbnb host messaged me the next day.  She wanted to come over and look at the place.  

She came over.  She had a short crew cut.  She looked like she did Crossfit regularly.  There would be zero sexual tension between us.  

I let her in.  She seemed relieved that there was no damage to her unit.  

I messaged the host towards the end of my stay.  I was interested in staying at her place for a month.  I suggested that I could pay her directly instead of going through Airbnb.  I would avoid the Airbnb fees and taxes.  She would get to keep the income off her books and from Uncle Sam.  A win-win I thought.  She agreed.

I figured I had leverage.  5 days ago a homeless person came into the place, ate my fruit, then took a nap.  It took half of the Phoenix Metro PD and a drone to remove the person.  There was a pending Airbnb review I would be writing in the coming days.  A good monthly rate would convince me this was a 5-star stay.

I offered $1500 for the month.

“Best I could do would be $2000.  All up front” she countered.

I countered.

“$1800 paid half up front and half after two weeks”

“Can’t do that.  Too much risk.  You could leave halfway.  I’m not losing two weeks’ worth of income.  $2200 if you want to pay half upfront and the other half after two weeks.”

She was one tough bitch.

I chose to go to Texas instead.  I had friends there I could stay with for free.  And I wouldn’t have to worry about them eating my fruit.

I did not leave an Airbnb review.