​Over breaks, such as the winter one we were all on or perhaps for weekend getaways to get off campus, many students use Airbnb to find cheap places to stay. While Airbnb is a wonderful service, I can’t help but be confused by some of the long and confusing things hosts include in their guides. I swear, they could write these on their rules and guides page for a house in the Catskill Mountain:

1) Your GPS may not work in the mountains, so when you get off state Route 212, take a right onto the narrow dirt road at the body of the dead deer and drive eight miles, more or less. (Make sure that’s a dead female deer. Taking the turn at the dead male deer will take you to Pennsylvania.) Our house is the white shingled farmhouse with bright yellow shutters. It is not the white shingled farmhouse with the faded sunflower yellow shutters. Do not attempt to enter the house with the faded sunflower yellow shutters. If the owner is outdoors and sees you, say you are Cindy’s cousin.

2) The front door key is in a white envelope under the geranium pot next to the porch. If you see a little green snake, do not be alarmed: It’s a garter snake, and it’s harmless. The one with the coppery red head and bands across its body is another story. The snakebite kit is in a shoe box on the top shelf of the closet of the bedroom with the yellow comforter. Or maybe the room with the old typewriter. Our suggestion: If you are part of a large group, tell the most annoying member to get the key.

3) Once inside the house, you’ll find a line of light switches to the right of the door. The first is for the porch, the second is for the kitchen, the third is merely to confuse you and the fourth, which we have not taken the trouble to mark in any way, should not be touched or something horrible will happen. We’re not going to tell you what. Think about it when you can’t sleep because the man next door has had a few drinks and is blasting “Who Let the Dogs Out” from his front porch because he hates Airbnb and hates city people and knows you are not Cindy’s cousin.

4) We are a shoe-free house, so we ask that you wear thick socks or slippers when indoors. The house slippers should be previously unworn and have felt soles. Brand is unimportant.

5) The kitchen is fully equipped and ready for your enjoyment. We do ask that when you use the dishwasher, you open the cabinet door beside it, find the drain hose, and hold it aloft during the rinse cycle. Do not overload the dishwasher, or it will flood and ruin the floor. Will our homeowner’s insurance cover this, or is it something for which we will hold you responsible? That’s something else to think about when you can’t sleep because the crackpot next door has put beer bottles on the tree stumps in front of his house and decides 11 p.m. is a good time for target practice.

6) Please do not touch the wine and liquor in the cabinet in the living room. Especially the Maker’s. We have drawn lines in ink visible to our eyes only on the bottles and we’ll know.

7) You’ll find firewood, kindling and matches beside the fireplace. These, however, cannot be used by guests and are just there to taunt you.

8) This is an old house with old plumbing, so we ask you not to flush hygiene products, condoms or much of anything down the toilet. You’re in the country––go outside and squat. Nobody will see you but that raving whack job next door, and, as you may have noticed, he’s an erratic shot.

9) There’s a grill on the back patio. You’re welcome to enjoy it. We do ask that, after each use, you disassemble and clean it, making sure the grill box is free of food debris and the burner tubes are not clogged. The steel brushes are in the basement, behind the workbench, under Jack’s antique scythe collection. The basement light does not work, so just feel your way around.

10) In case you break a wine glass, no problem. It happens, and we have your credit card.

11) Garbage: We recycle, so separate glass, plastic, metal and the stuff that looks like metal but is really tin over paper and put it in the containers under the sink. Food waste goes in the tall garbage can in the kitchen. There is a private garbage pickup service in the area whose trucks you may have seen. We do not use it. Would we be renting our house and staying with Jack’s mother if we could afford a $60-a-month garbage service? At the end of your stay, double bag trash and take it to the town dump, which is an easy 20-mile ride from the house on a former logging road. If you’ve brought along a pickup truck, this is the time to use it. Drive slowly; the road is rutted and there are no guard rails.

12) The town dump is open to residents only, so you’ll need our dump permit, which we keep under the Mr. Coffee. But it was a nice ride, wasn’t it?

13) Checkout time is noon. Before leaving the house, unplug the appliances, and make sure the windows and doors are closed and locked. Button your camouflage jacket to the collar, stay low to the ground and run. And if you make it back to the city, be sure to remember to write a review. We know it will be glowing. We gave your address to the guy next door.

I hope your new year is filled with tons of wild Airbnb adventures like this.  

Editor’s note: This is the fourth part of the “Why Am I Here?” series.