We blew into Seattle late at night in the middle of a rainstorm.
Standing at the car rental counter while my boyfriend made the negotiations, I heard my phone ring.
“Is this Kristin?” an unfamiliar voice asked as I held it to my ear.
“Yes,” I replied.
“This is Jeff,” the voice said, “your Airbnb host.”
Puzzled, I responded, “I thought we were staying with someone named ‘Scooter’?”
“You are,” Jeff replied. “But he was finally able to marry his partner of 20 years and they ran off to Paris to celebrate! So I’ll be taking care of you during your stay.”
“The thing is,” he continued. “I forgot your husband’s name. Or is it boyfriend?”
“Boyfriend,” I said. “His name is Tom.”
“Oh,” Jeff said. There was a pause.
“Well, we have a tradition of writing a welcome message on the fridge in magnetic letters. I couldn’t remember your man’s name, so I just wrote ‘Welcome Kristin and Mr Awesome.’ Do you think that will be okay?”
“I’m sure it will be more than okay,” I assured him, laughing.
And that was my first impression of the guy who would be our thoughtful and charming host for the next five days.
Tom was still embroiled in negotiations with the Enterprise staff, so I didn’t tell him about the refrigerator magnets waiting to greet us. How lucky were we to draw a ‘Magical Motherf*&*ker’ in the Airbnb lottery of hosts?
Kristin Fellows 