Amazing how one blind email can piss you the fuck off.
Great place we found. Amazing Neighbors. Good online service overall. I wanted to stay in a place that felt like I was in my own home for a few days. Not a hotel. Not a hostel. Not a campground.
I used the service, because both Hans and I are now "Mature and Frugal" not "Young and Broke": A reasonable price to feel we are in a home and not a flea bitten hotel or hostel full of drunk kids from France.
Worked out great. We even went to an even nicer AirBnB rental where the director and producer of the movie was staying. Had a few nice glasses of wine. Some delicious food, and a gorgeous view of San Francisco. I then drove the three minutes to Harvey's to do five minutes of standup and ran into Cleve Jones (I was in Milk playing Gwenn Craig), went back to the director's apartment, stayed up for a relatively decent time and drove back to our place.
Woke up the next day to find out that DOMA and Prop 8 no longer existed. Had our premiere that day through all of that joy.
Then we went to the very lovely (and crowded) lesbian bar The Lexington Club for the after party. Stayed a bit with a friend from SF who came out to see us...and we got in our car relatively early and went back to the apartment we rented.
That morning we got in the car (with all the found furniture we got throughout the trip along with my new acoustic guitar) and we drove down Highway 1 back to Los Angeles. Without ever turning out, I took a ton of pictures from the car.
That was our Mature Adventure. So mature, we took time out to go to Oakland, so Hans could train the person who was taking over for him while he was on vacation.
After more than a decade....I finally met his boss and saw his Oakland office. He got *paid for that day*
ADVENTURE! Mature Adventure. Someone on the road (while eating) asked us why we did not do the hour plane ride to San Francisco. Both of us said: We have both been down Highway 1, but not together.
ADVENTURE! MATURE COUPLE ADVENTURE. A one time affair, every once in a while. We like it that way.
Apparently that is not enough for AirBnB.
I got this oh so lovely bulk email in my inbox from AirBnB this Independence Day.
"Once upon a time, you knew what summer vacation meant: freedom, discovery, exploration, and joy. It meant endless days of adventure and long nights laughing with friends.
What the hell happened to you?"
Right. What the hell happened to me. What the hell is the deal with my "Mature Adventures"
Here is my open letter response to AirBnB on their question.
I FUCKING GOT OLD, THAT IS WHAT HAPPENED.
Here is the thing, AirBnB. I spent long nights laughing with my friends and endless days of traveling and adventure. The older you get the less you want to stay up and see the sun come up. You wish to sleep and hear your alarm clock go off and see the sun after eight hours of FUCKING SLEEP.
I have toured on buses, cramped vans and long airplane rides where it would have been more comfortable sleeping in the bulkhead...to really cool places around this country and some places around the world. It was (and even now but sparingly) fun as fuck.
But here is the thing, bulk email from AirBnB asking people who have used your service what the hell is "wrong with us":
I've been in a tent in the rain. I found out now at this age I DON'T LIKE IT. I have slept on mats in a carved out International Harvester bus for a few years in the 80's... and that bus broke down in some of the most beautiful scenic places I have ever seen. It was the most freeing discovery, riddled with explorations of joy. It was endless days of adventure and long nights laughing at 18 to twenty with new found friends that have lasted for years.
This would not be fucking fun for me at 48 next month. Do you realize AirBnB that one of the members of this bus picture I sent a potato salad recipie to via facebook today? Why? BECAUSE WE ARE FUCKING OLD IN HOUSES NOW AND THAT IS HOW WE ROLL.
I have been in hotel rooms in the South where the Gideon Bible has been chained to the inside of a desk with a long wire. I have been in dirty hotels at the farthest tip of Long Island where I rented a car just to fucking get AWAY from the person I was bunked with to stay on floors of people I barely knew in New York.
I remember people crawling through the window of my hotel room in Austin Texas (as it was on the first floor ground level) with beer to laugh and joke as I cooked eggs from the mini kitchen at the "After After Party" at a festival.
I realized I no longer liked being an "explorer" when I found myself in Toronto in a private hostel room where at my then current age? This is the place you rent to kill yourself.
It's no longer fucking cute, AirBnB. I wish to now have my adventures and journeys sparingly. In a decent place and for an actual good reason to be there. Where I can be wide awake instead of hungover and drunk wondering where I am. I rather stay in a place like this above outside of Manila in the Phillipines. It is now my idea of adventure and exploring and yea. It's why I came to you in the first place.
But I don't wish you to make me feel like I should be doing this twenty four gooddamn seven.
What kills me is your assumption that everyone should be like some sort of goddamn Ernest Hemingway for the rest of our lives. Well guess what? Ernest Hemingway was a drunk and shot himself in the face. I don't wish to be like him.
...and I'm sure, you don't want to have to deal with someone like Ernest Hemingway found dead in one of your AirBnB rentals.
What the hell happened to me? I will reiterate. I GOT OLD. No. It doesn't mean I got smarter in my decisions. Just OLDER in my decisions and I'm personally great with that. I'm in no way suggesting everyone should be like what I have gotten to in my life. But please as fuck don't make me feel guilty about wanting to sit in my fucking underwear on Fourth of July and not be out in the middle of the drunken fray and instead watch Yankee Doodle Dandy and the accompanying DVD Extras on James Cagney.
I don't want to spend every holiday with a backpack on carrying an open container of beer and years later trying to piece together what the fuck I did because I was so goddamn drunk. I'm doing that right now, thank you very much.
I would like to have the experience of now enjoying my time with close friends and at around 10 or 11-ish saying "I love you all, Hans has to go to work and my left arm is fucking killing me right now...do you feel me? Talk to you later."
If I'm going to sit in front of a campfire, that is cool too. But nowadays that will be either getting into the car and going back home after its done...or going back to the relatively decent hotel and going to sleep either with Hans OR BY MYSELF. It will entail people *not crawling through the window* with the cheapest beer and a bong.
No. I don't want to stay at the 24 hour party house with the upside down mannequin, where ten people are outside doing whiskey gutter shots, a room with an uncleaned Hooka and the ongoing crockpot of Roast Beef precariously placed by the sink with dirty dishes someone has thrown up in. I don't want to watch the oldest guy in the room sitting in the corner looking at the younger people in an almost envious disdain, glaring at one young woman and continuingly calling her a Pretty Pretty Princess. You realize he has his own cooler and you know he has downed the entire contents by himself.
No. I don't wish to be in a car at four in the morning with a guy driving drunk and fast while throwing full White Castle Containers out of the car lost trying to drive back to the basement of his Aunt and Uncle's house somewhere in The Midwest.
That, AirBnB are actual cut and paste places of actual explorations of joy I have attended over the years. The types of vacations that meant at that time in my life: freedom, discovery, exploration, and joy of adventure and long nights laughing with friends.
And I'm tired and fucking old and no longer have the burning need to burn myself out like this anymore. I like my discoveries, explorations and joy of adventure with a sense of some sort of quiet dignity. I want short nights laughing with friends now.
I don't want to be the oldest person in the room looking disdainfully at a group of much younger people drinking a full case of beer on my own and them too afraid to talk to me. I don't want to be that person so in desperate need to be up all night because I have nothing else better to do quietly with my time.
I'm no longer searching that desperately.
I don't wish to be Earnest Hemingway, AirBnB.
You don't know me, AirBnB
So I'm telling you what happened from one person's perspective you blind emailed.
Been there and done that.
Plus I got FUCKING OLD. And, I LIKE THAT.
I want to travel like a Human. An OLD HUMAN.
Happy 4th of July. You can find me in my home watching the Twilight Zone Marathon because I WANT TO.
Thank you for returning our deposit in a timely manner. I will use your services sparingly.
Kisses and fuck your bulk email gently, AirBnB
Causes Shaun Landry Supports
The Alzheimer's Foundation, NAACP, Breast Cancer Foundation, Gilda's Club.