My Airbnb Nightmare

Airbnb has been gaining popularity in the past couple of years like crazy. The accommodation platform seemed to have come out of nowhere and has taken the world by storm. It’s not hard to see why when you look through some of the amazing places you can stay.

A while back I wrote a post outlining tips for booking with Airbnb. The platform can be difficult to navigate and because it’s just regular people putting their homes up online for you to stay at, there can be some margin for error. I wrote that post mostly because my first experience with the company was an absolute nightmare.

It all began when I was looking for places to stay in Paris for my first visit to the city. I was travelling to visit Ben for the first time and so we had a very ambitious itinerary. For my 25th birthday, he was surprising me with a trip to Paris. The trip was only going to be 36 hours so we definitely had to make the most of it. We would also only be staying for one night so I said I would take care of looking for accommodations.

I had never used Airbnb before so I thought it would be a good opportunity to try it out. After all, with Paris being such a popular city there were plenty of options for places to stay.

After browsing through for a couple of days I thought I found the perfect apartment. The host described the apartment as very close to the eiffel tower, entirely renovated, cosy and charming. It sounded perfect. I booked what I thought was the entire apartment for our stay and spent the days anxiously awaiting our trip.

A week before the trip is where it all started to go wrong. I emailed the host looking to find out how we would get the keys and the details of what to do upon arrival. Because the apartment was in a complex we weren’t sure if we needed a specific code to get up or not.

No response.

I sent another email once landed in the U.K. to the host asking the same questions, a little more panicked and worried about not finding out where we had to go because neither of us would have data upon arrival in France.

Again, no response.

We waited until the day before travel to call host and when we were again unable to reach him or leave a voicemail I immediately called Airbnb to have them sort what they could. At this point Airbnb advised us that they couldn’t cancel the reservation or rebook us until they at least attempted to get in touch with the host first. Within an hour of talking to them, guess who finally called us.

So, because the host finally answered and was apologetic for not being available we were forced to keep our booking unless we wanted to loose money. Slightly more reassured we shrugged it off thinking perhaps the host was telling the truth, maybe he had been out of town with no access to email or a phone (eyeroll).

Early the next morning we boarded our delayed train and made our trek to Paris. When we arrived we followed the instructions and found our way to the apartment complex. Because we only had 36 hours we arrived in Paris fairly early (I think around 9am) and were anxious to drop our bags and get going.

When we got to the apartment couldn’t find the exact address so Ben had to turn his data on and we called the host to come let us in and to drop our bags like he said we could. We had told him the day before exactly when we would be arriving so we could make sure he would be there.

Yup, you guessed it, no answer.

Frustrated but with little choice, we decided to wander a little ways down the road to buy a croissant and bide our precious time before we received a call back.

Twenty minutes later with no response Ben texted the host to see if perhaps that would be an easier way to reach him. No response.

It wasn’t until 50 minutes after we arrived in Paris did we receive a call back from the host. He apologized, yet again, and told us he wasn’t at the apartment but the previous nights tenants were and would let us in so we could drop our bags. The host also told us to be back at the apartment at 4pm so he could give us the keys.

We found our way up to a hallway with four doors, none with numbers. After 15 minutes we took a chance and knocked on the door that was slightly ajar. A couple answered and asked if we were that nights guests. They hadn’t checked out yet and so they apologized for the place being a little messy. At this point I was getting daggers from Ben about not only the place and the host but also the fact we were dropping our luggage in an apartment with two strangers.

With little choice we figured if a few clothing items get stolen than, whatever. We dropped our bags and headed out to explore, planning all the while at being back for 4pm to shower and freshen up for the night.

It was a great day considering how it started and we saw most of the major attractions Paris has to offer. We started to make our way back to the apartment later in the afternoon to make sure we were there for 4pm like the host asked.

At 4 on the dot, sitting on the Champs de Mars and admiring the Eiffel Tower, we texted our host to tell him we were waiting.

Radio silence.

At this point I thought this was a joke. I could feel the anger creeping up very quickly. It took two texts, three phone calls and 1 hour and 25 minutes before we finally heard from the host. Over an hour. I was fuming.

We made our way to the apartment and he greeted us as nicely as possible, I refused to speak to him. He brought us upstairs to show us around.

“Here is the dining area,” he said as we walked in, “and here is the bathroom, living room, kitchen and finally your room.”

Ben and I looked at each other. This guys underwear was drying on a stand right in the middle of the living room. Again, we thought this was a joke.

“Do you need a room key?” he asked. I thought this was strange seeing as he should just be leaving the house key.

“No that should be okay”

“Okay great, well if you need anything else just let me know.” With that he turned around, walked into the living room and started watching TV.

WTF was going on?

Ben and I walked into the room, shut the door and tried to decide what to do next. Ben proceeded to state that he couldn’t stay in the apartment. There was a grown man next door who at this point had started to cook his dinner. I tried to calm Ben down and say it wasn’t that bad before we both caught sight of the hair all over the floor and the pillows.

My mouth dropped. This guy had not washed the sheets from the previous nights guests. The room was disgusting. We decided at that moment we had to leave.

The time wasting I could maybe get over, the fact that the host was staying with us when we thought we had booked the entire apartment I could probably get over, but dirty sheets was not something I could get over.

I immediately got out my phone, opened the Hotwire app and booked the most reasonable hotel we could find close by.

We got our bags ready and set out to make our escape. After three years of being together, I still have not seen Ben move so quickly in my life. He didn’t stop to make sure I was behind him until we were out and around the corner.

As we made our way to the hotel, disgruntled and upset having wasted so much of our precious time – guess who FINALLY called US. Three times in a row I might add. We didn’t pick up.

The rest of the trip was fantastic and we made the most of the little time we had left.

When I got back to Canada I called Airbnb to complain about the absolutely miserable experience I had, I thought at the very least maybe they will refund me the night we were meant to stay.

Do you know what they did?

They refunded us in full for the night we had booked. They gave us a $100 voucher for a future booking AND they refunded us the money we spent on having to book a hotel!

I couldn’t believe it. This company took customer service to an entirely new level.

Since then I have booked six different stays and never had a problem.

The apartment you ask? You can find it here.