This is part of a series about Airbnb, where we rent out our home one or two weekends per month and use the time and profits to do the little things we always say we’re about to do. The ideal is to expose our kids to new places and people, or better yet, leave them at home with Grandma while my wife and I have fun.
Day One: Cleaning & Being A Job Creator
My co-worker’s 17-year-old nephew helped clean for our Airbnb guests. As a Democrat and supporter of a living wage, I paid him $15 an hour under the table (guess I also have a little Republican in me). He did a fairly good job, though my wife often caught him checking his stellar hair in the bathroom mirror on company time.
We finished cleaning around 7:30pm, just as our guest arrived, who, by the way, made a grand entrance by bumping his car into my garage door. He lost some cool points for that, but made up for it by: 1) knowing how to work the Roku without me having to explain; and 2) being Asian and therefore culturally programmed to take his shoes off upon entering a home.
From there, Amber and I went out for Mexican food. Thanks to the pending Airbnb deposit, I balled out and bought a shrimp burrito. Then, like the teenagers we once were, we went back to our sports wagon (it’s just not a minivan) to drink some of the beer that was packed for our upcoming trip to Palm Springs. Perhaps we would have made sweet automobile love if the back seats of our Mazda had not been filled with urine-stained child seats.
Grandma’s house was our next stop. We stayed the night. She pulled out all the stops for us, even combining two beds into one so Amber and I could sleep with our three violent toddlers. We were knocked out by 10:30pm.
Day Two: Are They…Or Did I Watch Too Much Skinemax?
I started the day with some pre-trip shopping at Target. The temperature in Palm Springs was forecast to be above 100 degrees, so I got a pair of slim-fit khaki shorts and an admittedly kind-of-homosensual tank top with bright birds on it. After that, I went to Wendy’s and bought a Junior Frosty for each of the boys to ease the temporary bastardization process.
By noon, Amber and I were finally on the road for our two-hour drive to Palm Springs. After about an hour, we stopped at The Cuban Hit in Temecula, a city that has a Cuban population of about two. Still, the food was authentic as the owner’s accent and damn good for just $15. It was pleasant place to eat, though I wish said owner would have cared when Amber showed him a picture of our recent trip to Havana. Man, could we have least gotten an “Oh, wow!” Maybe a “That’s great!” No, he pretty much just shrugged.
After a quick stop at the Cabazon Outlets, about 30 minutes outside of Palm Springs, we made it to our destination and checked into the V Hotel where they hit me with a surprise resort fee of $29, despite, as Dad would say, “It ain’t no damn resort.” However, the room was modern and interesting and had bull horns hanging above the bed.
We changed and joined the pool party. There was a good mix of bodies—ectomorphs and endomorphs—and no shame. Two young women approached us in the water. One had her hair dyed silver and wore what I call a “half thong.” I’m sure there’s a name for that type of swimsuit, but it shows about three-fourths cheek. I guess you wear it when you want to show off your ass while also giving your ass crack a bit of relief. It’s sensible.