Funny Airbnb Host Stories And Not So Funny Real Airbnb Horror Stories:
Mr. Bean: Why Did Guest Steve Sleep In The Dog Box Christmas Eve?
This is one of those impossible “Funny” Airbnb Hosts Stories!
No. He nearly did it more than one night.
Steve and wife arranged a fancy holiday. Staying a couple of weeks over the Christmas period, running away from cold and wet London. Kind people. We became friends over the years while arranging accommodation for them in Cape Town.
“Wife” is not well. Sugar. Swollen legs. Insulin. And apparently, the London doctors got it wrong.
The two arrived with her in a sorry state. Cape Town doctors hospitalised her immediately. Corrected the imbalance. But she was weak.
The Cape Town Airbnb they choose is a technological masterpiece. Every possible gadget. Clap your hand once and the sidelights go on. Flip a finger and music plays. You get the idea.
Unfortunately….
Steve can send an email. And just getting used to WhatsApp. The e-home and the limited Steve will become a major challenge.
Steve and Wife, luckily, love dogs. And demanded the owners’ dogs not be kenneled. A blessing in disguise for what will happen.
While Wife is hospitalised on day one; Steve is all alone. He and two friendly dogs.
Unhassles Airbnb eBook
Nighttime; Steve took the dogs out.
For some reason, he closes the door behind him. Locked! Oblivious.
It’s him, dogs, Africa, and darkness.
Yes. He is a real English gentleman.
Can they not be really amazing? But tonight it’s going to cost him dearly. Mr Bean.
With the dogs settled, not knowing he will join them again in the next hour he walks back to the locked door.
But To Night He Is Not Properly Dressed….
You must remember Steve is in his jocks. Dress shoes, short socks, and a vest. Odd. But I suppose a gentleman with bare feet, like everyday South Africans, is not royal.
He walks to the front door. Locked. What now?
No phone. He knows nobody.
Skinny legs in jocks he knocks on the neighbours door. Amazed. They invite him in as they are busy opening gifts.
Steve, apologetically, phoned us. We decided to drive over and break a window tonight. And open the kitchen door.
“No!” said Steve adamantly. He will stay over with the neighbours and we should only come the next morning. The neighbour agrees.
What a gentleman? Even the neighbours are so kind.
Next morning early, before six we arrive. Hammer in hand to break a small window at the kitchen door.
While hammering away, here appears the thin-odd looking white-legged-gentleman with polished shoes.
But why is he approaching us from the front where the dog box is?
The price you pay for being gentle.
You guessed it. Steve slept outside with the dogs – with only a small towel to cover part of his legs.
No complaints.
All happy? Yes. But a little embarrassed.
It was only the start of the second saga.
We gave Steve an extra key for the problem door. We left it next to a pot outside. Problem solved?
We hoped.
A few days later the gardener arrives. He picks the key up and gave it to Steve. Yes. Steve. No one else.
And Steve, not thinking, stash the key away in the house.
That evening Steve abandoned his nice-guyness. And broke the newly replaced window himself as he locked himself out again.
Impossible. No.