Coming back from the Azores, landing at Boston’s Logan Airport after 9 pm. No flight out until the next day. So in anticipation of this dilemma I found a place to spend the night prior to my trip. Hotels were pretty full (had no idea it was the time of the Marathon) and big city expensive. Best I could do was a room fairly close to the airport according to the map: Lance and Shelley’s Garden Room on Saratoga Street, East Boston, $88. The photos look fine, but they always do. Try to determine what the host is NOT showing you in the photos.
So I arrive, get thru customs as once again Global Entry proves it’s worth. Baggage is a long wait; why is my small bag always the last one on the conveyor belt? While I did change my outgoing flight back on Sept 29th as I came thru the airport, when I was overseas I received an updated schedule from Delta showing 2 Boston to Detroit flights. I was unable to send a message, didn’t have international cell calling so knew as I had an overnight anyway I would stop at the counter when I landed.
Once again circumstances working against me. The airport shuttles were not working. I had to walk from Terminal E to A; any of the other alphabet terminals would have been much closer. The first escalator was broke had to find the elevator. Then the long trudge thru the corridors, thru the parking garage, another long corridor then a 90 degree turn down another hall to an escalator then down to ticketing. Now out to the taxi stand as the host told me to take a taxi instead of an Über. Had to wait for more taxi to be summoned and got a somewhat surly African who didn’t seem to want to load my bag in the trunk. After I gave him an address he left I presume to get directions (wouldn’t happen in an Über). Then we drove on and out onto an expressway. Nothing indicated there would be tolls along the way. Very hard to see out of my screened in cramped in back seat. Driver asked me directions after exiting xway – I have no idea. I do text my host to let them know my progress as requested.
We get to a short block of 3 narrow, tall frame houses, very dark hard to see where 389 is. I see the fare is $8.65 so I get my money out prepared to give him some tip. He tells me the fare is $11.25. How? Then he starts shouting about the toll charge and tells me to look in the cab to see toll charge, or something. Accent and mask, I’m not clear what he’s saying. I get my bill change, no coins. Fine, be gone!
So now I stand alone on the dark street of only 3 houses, and an elevated highway looming overhead. I have my sheet of late check in instructions clutched in hand. Before me stands a white vinyl picket fence, hard to distinguish the gate placement but I find it. Instructions are to unlock the gate and proceed down the passage to the rear. There is no latch mechanism on the front. I lean over the top and peer at the back using my hands trying to find a latch, a bolt, a hinge. I’m not finding anything that moves, nor does the gate. 3 young men get out of a car and one asks if I’m here for the BNB, yes I reply, but I can’t get the gate open. He comes over to help, so nice. He fumbles around and says I don’t know, can’t get it open and joins his mates off into the dark beyond. I have no recourse but to go up the front steps and ring the doorbell. Scenes from horror movies I’ve watched flit thru my weary brain.
Up I trudge…I press the lit doorbell once, and wait, and wait. Dare I press again? Finally the door opens and there appears a pale white face with a big grin and says: “Oh, you didn’t read the instructions!” I saw this scene in a movie, I’m sure, so have I left reality?
Not what I expected to be greeted with. I replied that the gate won’t open. She, Shelley I presume, flits lightly down the stairs over to the gate. First she pushes it, then she kicks it and it opens. I hold up my instructions and say “Kicking is not in the instructions.” I concede this was probably not a helpful observation, but I DID most certainly read the instructions. Shelley says “someone closed the gate”; oh, a defective gate is a nice trick to play on unsuspecting new guests.
Down the long dark passage to the back door where Shelley says “I suppose I should put in the door lock combination too.” What a bitch. I do tell her I’m very tired, had a long flight. I go up the steps thru the open door to see the very steep, very narrow staircase looming in front of me. I have my knee brace on but stairs I take cautiously. Shelley offers to carry my suitcase but I say no, I just want her to leave.
“Don’t you want to see the bathroom” she chirps. I can’t remember how or if I responded as I cautiously went up the stairs somewhat like Igor dragging a body. At the top she gives me a quick tour in my dazed, overtired state. Into my garret room I went; Mimi in La Boheme had a palace in comparison. The window of the warm room was difficult to open; I realized it was a storm window where I needed to first coordinate holding the side clips while raising the window.
I quietly explore the upstairs. I see other rooms with beds, a large sitting area and kitchen but no other guests. Those bedrooms are bigger, have multiple beds. Bathroom nicely updated.
Had to repack my suitcase, reorder my stuff, charge the phone, check messages, use the bathroom, try to figure out how to use the Über app, then hit the bed. I messed up with Über and inadvertently ordered a car for immediate pick up, then couldn’t figure out how to cancel got charged for late cancellation, queried getting charged as I was a first time user who messed up then got a refund but felt sorry for Larry who showed up in 2 mins! Let me go to bed. tomorrow is another day.
Now that my flight didn’t leave till after lunch I had plenty of time but I chose to leave this cursed place with the brittle landlady. I had my breakfast with me, no cooking, no shower. I did meet two other guests and stayed to talk with them awhile in the kitchen. Both were there to run the marathon. One from outside Albuquerque, the other LA. Enjoyed our chat.
Quietly, as best as I could, I went down the stairs. Planned to order the car once outside as they came so quickly it would take me too long to go down the stairs without falling (don’t forget I had a suitcase). I inched my way carefully out the door and started down the stairs. I noticed a door to the main living quarters was partially open. I was outside taking a breathe of fresh air thinking I made a good escape when that big round white grinning face poked out thru the door opening!
“How about a free ride to the airport?'”
I stopped midstep and said with a smile, “Well that would be nice.”
I’ll give you one if you apologize for being rude. We all want good reviews, don’t we?”
“I’ll take an Über” was my reply and I left.
In the daylight as I waited in front I saw what a dive this place was. There was a huge elevated highway looming over the house. Weeds protruded from the front dirt out between the picket fence. Back in my room I realized this bedroom was the enclosed former second story covered porch overlooking a garden gone to hell.
I had a lovely ride to the airport in a spanking new, clean car and no driver shouting at me. She wanted me to add my tip to the vehicle charge but I prefer to get cash and let the driver do as they pls. The flight home went well, easily caught my connection, landed home airport and called a friend. It was good to be home, one of the best aspects of travel.
The cat ran away from me when I entered the house but soon was around meowing for food (doesn’t like that new low calories stuff). I picked up Sparky-dog from the kennel. He was beyond ecstatic to see me! Gotta love dogs for that unbounded love.
My BNB host is considered a Superhost. Actually all I think that means is they rents a whole lot of rooms. In retrospect part of the problem I had is I’m a well seasoned older traveler. I’ve done the hostel bit in my youth, I share roommates on Road Scholar trips, but AirBNB falls in this internet area where you can’t trust the photos, reviews are skewed as everyone wants good review and will forgo the truth, descriptions embellished, besides which the add on fees are getting ridiculous. Can we trust anything on the internet? Not Amazon reviews, not Yelp where your review will be removed as not reflecting an actual experience because an owner complained, not ebay where the buyer rules. Will people tire of overinflated descriptions and return to hotel chains where people might be held answerable? It has all added a new complication to travel. Maybe I have to reconsider camping.
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