Worst Vacation Ever - A Flea Infested Airbnb Nightmare"

Post:

So lemme tell ya’ll, I just got back from what was supposed to be a fantastic vacation in San Francisco, but instead, I got the Airbnb trip from hell. I swear to God, I’m gonna need therapy after this sh*t.

Okay, so first things first. The place looked GREAT in the photos. Like, it was a sunny, cool loft in a hip neighborhood. I was stoked to spend my vacation there. Fast forward to the day of my flight, I get an email—just hours away from my trip, mind you—from the host saying that there was a ‘small issue’.

Now, in my head, a ‘small issue’ is like, the wifi’s out or maybe the hot water isn’t working. Something easy, right? BUT NOPE. My oh-so-gracious host informs me that the loft was no longer available because the dude accidentally booked it to two people. You read that right, I was scammed by a bloody double-booking.

But hey, breathe in, breathe out, it's fine. The host promises me he’s got another ‘awesome’ place I can stay in. At this point, I don’t really have a choice, do I? My guess is this fruitloop had thought he’d butter me up with the word ‘awesome’. Oh boy, was I about to get a lesson in relativity.

So, I arrive, and let’s just say the place didn’t quite match the glam of the loft I had initially booked. In fact, it was a dive. A dingy, cramped studio that smelled like a mix of sweat and despair. The wifi was as unstable as a house of cards in a wind tunnel, the mattress felt like it was stuffed with rocks, and don’t even get me started on the bathroom situation. The kind of place where you’d find gum stuck under the desk and unidentified stains on the carpet. You know what I mean?

Now, to add insult to injury, I found out the place was infested with fleas. Yeah, I woke up every morning with new itchy, red welts all over my body. Let me tell ya, nothing screams vacation like turning into a walking snack for these hell-bugs.

But did it end there? Of course not, this was the horror show that just kept on giving. The final coup de grâce was realizing that the place was shared. SHARED! With a total rand* who just as it happens, was a klepto. I *insert sarcasm here* enjoyed waking up every day to something else missing from my bag.

I tried getting in touch with our dear host but surprise, surprise, el capitan of chaos had vanished into thin air. So, here I am, back home, still trying to shake off the flea bites, still missing my brand new headphones and that cool vintage shirt I loved.

Moral of the story? Always, and I mean ALWAYS, double-check your Airbnb hosts, their reviews, their grandma’s dental records, whatever you need. Be thorough, my friends, or you could very well end up in a flea-infested hell-hole like me.

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