Are you over Airbnbs?
Current feelings on the short-term rental experience
Were those… old coffee grounds the last guests left behind? We examined the coffeemaker with incredulity. At the last Airbnb we stayed at in August, which was marketed—and priced!—as a luxury property, my girlfriends and I almost left immediately after check-in because it was so wildly misrepresented and poorly cleaned.
More than ever, booking an Airbnb feels like a gamble of an experience. Kate Lindsay writes in the Atlantic this week:
“Airbnb was launched in 2008, a year after beginning as three air mattresses on the floor of its founders’ living room, but it is no longer a scrappy, community-minded platform powered by the gig economy. It’s an industry in itself, full of endless hosts and large property companies that manage dozens or hundreds of listings at a time. The relentless increase in quantity has stretched the quality thin.”
We’ve certainly been noticing this quiet thinning in quality over time. Hosts will charge a $300 cleaning fee but clearly have done only a rudimentary sweep on their own (and some people, myself included, really do not possess the skills to make a home sparkle like a professional). Then you get the Airbnbs that send a checkout to-do list a dozen items long, insisting that you strip the beds, run the dishwasher, start towel laundry, and take out the trash bins. Once, I even wandered the streets of London on a Sunday afternoon looking for towels because the host didn’t provide any!
What you rarely experience these days is that magic Airbnb once promised: of being welcomed into a home with above-and-beyond hospitality. Of feeling like you’re not just some tourist passing through, but someone who is momentarily part of a community. (That said, does anybody actually want that anymore, or are we all just looking for a contactless check-in and a hotel-like stay?)
On one of our first weekends at the lake house, one of our neighbors who is a full-time resident aggressively pushed the “please don’t Airbnb your house” agenda. While at first it was a bit off-putting, now we get it.
Quiet family of six getting away for the weekend in a three-bedroom house? I’m all for it. 12-person bachelor party in the same space? Not cool. When an Airbnb host chooses to prioritize profit by maxing out their occupancy, it means rowdy groups hanging out on the lakefront and excessive cars blocking the street. We’ve witnessed firsthand how a couple of Airbnbs on our street can completely change the dynamic of a mountain weekend. Your investment property shouldn’t wreak havoc on your neighbors’ right to quiet enjoyment.