We are graffiti on a subway train
Two hands shape of a heart
Lyrics on a Coca-Cola classic can
Promises whispered in the dark
We are Hemingway in a dive bar
I love you in a dead language
Progress running through the telephone wires
Sneakers hanging by the laces
We are the back roads dirty water soul banks
From the city to the country doing our thing, our way
We say things that I was gonna say
Freedom of our age, we are born and raised on American Slang
Born and raised on American Slang.
– The Cadillac Three
Wednesday 7 June 2023
Well, we’re in St Louis, it’s just on eleven o’clock and we are finally sorted with our Airbnb.
Rewind: we left the Chicago suburbs around 10:30am, stopped at Cracker Barrel for lunch – yes, two days in a row – on the way, and generally had a smooth and uneventful journey. That all changed when we got to our Airbnb in downtown St Louis. Yesterday, they had sent me an email saying check-in was at 4pm and told me that they couldn’t guarantee an earlier check-in, it was all to do with when the cleaners finished.
So we rolled in at about 4:30pm – the key is, thirty minutes after the check-in time they stipulated – managed to get into the building itself, went up to the fifth floor armed with the only code we had for the dials on lockbox (the apartment key is inside) and tried it. No good. We each took a turn trying to enter the code, and scouring the check-in instructions for any other codes. No bueno.
I called the company who rent the apartment through Airbnb and she walked me through a few codes for the lockbox, none of which worked. As I was on the phone, Nathan, just fiddling with the dials, managed to open it.
Problem solved?
No. Just as well I was still on the line when we went into the room, because it had not been cleaned, the beds were all unmade, the place smelt like smoke and there was a bag of trash sitting by the door, presumably left there by the previous occupants. At around the same time, I got a message through Airbnb through another arm of the company I was on the phone with at that time, telling me the apartment was cleaned, and giving me another code for the lockbox – which also didn’t work. Like heck it was cleaned! At that stage, Kat was advocating dinner then driving back to Chicago.
I managed to convey my displeasure at the situation in the room and insisted that they get someone down to clean the place immediately. I also noted we couldn’t use the bathroom facilities or freshen up anywhere before our dinner with the Alley’s out in the suburbs, and that we would need a clean apartment ready when we got back. I was promised an update. Yeah, sure, right, been there before. I was having major lost luggage United Airlines flashbacks.
Receiving assurances that everything would be made good by the time we got home, we drove out to Kirkwood and met Matt, Jaimie, Brooke, Miles, Page, Graham and Dash the dog. All of us bar Dash went into downtown Kirkwood to Dewey’s Pizza, a pretty good St Louis pizza joint – Matt would like you all to know that it’s the best pizza joint in this city – which we washed down, so to speak, with some Sno Cones at the Farmers Market afterward. Pizza, beer and sugared ice, how wonderfully American.
Spent the evening watching college softball and the NBA finals outdoors at the Alley’s house. I must admit to being a little nervous when we got back to the apartment. Thankfully, though, we opened the door and everything a) was cleaned and b) smelt normal. Just as well. And so ended the first major Airbnb issue I’ve ever had. I guess it was bound to happen, given how many Airbnb stays I’ve had. Still, not fun. They will definitely be getting some feedback in the review. All’s well that ends well, I guess. We’re going to have a fun few days down here.
kitchtrips 