My wife arranged an early check-in time at our New Orleans Air BnB, we wanted to get rid of our bags before wandering through the city. An Uber abandoned us at our residence for the next several nights, Paige had found a signature New Orleans shotgun house so we could get the signature New Orleans experience. We carefully followed the check-in instructions, decided we were in the right place, and knocked on the front door.

No answer.

Ok, give it a few minutes.

Still no answer.

Try knocking again? Ok here it goes... still nothing.

Can you double check to make sure this is the right place? Ok, can I see? Yeah, looks right. Did he respond when we said we were coming early? What exactly did he say? Alright, that seems pretty clear. Uhhh… I mean I don't know what to do... can we call him? Oh wait I think someone's coming.

Someone did eventually come. He wasn't wearing a bathrobe, but in my mind as I recall this morning, I picture him in a bathrobe. He had clearly just woken up, and despite the fact that our Air BnB host was

a solid 20 minutes late for our pre-arranged check-in time, he just played it off as though everything was going according to plan. He told us to leave our luggage by the door. I guess he needed some extra time to get our room ready. That’s fine, waiting a little longer is a small price to pay to ensure that our experience goes smoothly.

We came back later for our official introduction to our living quarters. There were a few details our host wanted to make sure we didn’t forget.

“You may see my girlfriend hanging out on the couch, she’s over here a lot.”

Ok, the guy is in a committed relationship. That’s kind of nice.

“Here’s the thermostat, feel free to adjust it but there isn’t any heating, most houses in New Orleans don’t have that. Just cooling.”

Got it. Paige had read that on the Air BnB listing. It seemed standard across the options we were comparing. Not a big deal.

“I sometimes smoke medical marijuana in the house, does that bother you?”

Well, I suppose if it's MEDICAL marijuana. I mean what kind of monsters would we be to deprive a sick man of his MEDICINE? I'm not an animal after all.

The orientation was over, we went out for dinner.

After the appropriate number of selfies and gift shops, we decided to turn in after supper to get a good night's sleep ahead of another full day of adventures. We had lights out around 10:30pm, which really isn't too different from a normal evening at the Beaty household back in Omaha.

But this wasn’t a normal evening, and we weren’t in Omaha.

Our room was on the second floor at the top of some rickety wooden stairs. It was impossible to be discrete while scaling these steps and turning the corner to where we would be sleeping. Some sadist had also inconveniently placed the light switch on the outside of the room.

As we were just entering our REM cycles, my fading out of consciousness was knocked loose by the sound of someone starting the expedition up the creaky old stairs.

FLASH.

The lights turned on. My wife and I struggled to orient ourselves until my dilated pupils adjusted just enough to see the silhouette of our host standing in the doorway holding a bed comforter.

He wasn't wearing a bathrobe, but in my mind, I imagine him still in a bathrobe.

“Oh! I didn't realize you were in here. I just finished up washing your bedspread.”

I checked the clock. It was 11:00pm.

•••

Night 2.

It was unseasonably cold in New Orleans. It normally wouldn't have been a big deal, but these old shotgun houses (or at least one old shotgun house in particular) are drafty as hell. You could feel the inhale and exhale of the room as if you were sleeping inside a pair of lungs. Once we had been provided with all our bedsheets, the first night was tolerable, but things cooled off considerably on day 2.

I knew there was no furnace. But I was desperate for answers when I woke up in the middle of the night shivering like Leonardo DiCaprio fighting for room on a floating door next to the shitty rich girl he had just hooked up with. I covered myself in every spare article of clothing that I felt comfortable having absorb my nighttime body odor. Still not good enough. I rappelled down the creaky old stairs to the location of the thermostat. I knew this was a waste of time, but I felt like I needed to at least try. The thermostat still had buttons after all, which I relentlessly pounded with the ferocity one reserves for playing Mortal Kombat on Sega Genesis. Back up the stairs to check on the furnace that— indeed— does not exist.

I started searching for another solution. There was an unoccupied room next to ours, which I assumed had to be full of extra blankets. As it turns out, this wasn’t a second bedroom. Random s**t was packed into every nook and cranny of the 300 square feet. Broken gym equipment, U-Haul boxes, and redundant kitchen appliances blocked my path as I searched for anything resembling a blanket. I suspected our Air BnB host had murdered his upstairs roommate and moved all his belongings into this space so he could make some extra rental cash.

I was beginning to wonder how many extra towels the bathroom had but then found, not-a-blanket, but something blanket-like. It wasn’t my first choice, but I was reminded of a fresco in the Nebraska State Capitol building that depicted a scene from a blizzard where settlers slit open the stomachs of their dead livestock and crawled inside for warmth. It could be worse.

Not satisfied with my smallpox blanket, Paige sent our host a message. Predictably, he was still up. Within minutes we heard the familiar creak of the stairs, he turned on the light, opened the door, and lugged in a space heater that resembled a satellite dish with a heat bulb inside. It even made this crazy laser beam sound as it warmed up. It was the kind of thing with warning stickers plastered all over the sides, telling you not to fall asleep using it because you may inadvertently light yourself on fire. We went to bed anyways.

I woke up an hour later sweating through the storage room blanket.

•••

Night 3.

It was yet another full day. We had fed a raccoon some marshmallows. Held a baby alligator. Saw the future burial site of Nicolas Cage (who knew he was such a planner). And while Paige met her idol that runs a baking blog , I got yelled at by some people sitting on their porch watching chickens walk around their front yard. We had hit all the New Orleans attractions.

We went to bed content with our vacation and satisfied with the totality of our experience in the Big Easy.

For the most part.

Dead asleep. Middle of the night.

FLASH.

AGAIN.

A young, confused women walked casually into our room. Made eye contact and yelled:

“Oh, S**T!”

She darted out of the room, turned off the lights, and ran back down the stairs. Paige and I—both semi-conscious— looked at each other in the most confused state we’ve been in during a very confusing stay.

I took the opportunity to pee, made sure the heat lamp hadn’t incinerated anything, and laid back to sleep under the mover’s blanket that doubled as my bed comforter.

Paige’s phone lit up. She had a message from our host.

“It happened again! I can't believe it! I'm so sorry! She was looking for my bedroom and thought it was upstairs.”

So…

There's a lot to digest here.

To summarize: our Air BnB host that we were paying to let us stay at his place invited a girl back while we were staying there. The same host that told us he had a girlfriend. A girlfriend we may see laying around on the couch from time to time. I think it’s safe to say she would know her boyfriend's bedroom is not at the top of the stairs.

But infidelity aside, HE BROUGHT A GIRL BACK TO HAVE SEX WITH HER WHILE WE WERE PAYING TO STAY AT HIS HOUSE.

Despite being freezing and sleep deprived, none of these details were lost on me in the middle of the night.

The next morning, Paige and I had a lot to catch up on.

“Well after that awkward encounter do you think he still got lucky last night?”

“I know for a fact that he did.”

“What do you mean?”

“You probably couldn't tell. You sleep with earplugs.”

“Ohhh…”

After much debate we decided not to leave him an Air BnB review.

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