airhead bnb

airhead bnb

I’ve been outta town taking some courses. I stayed with family for part of it, but for one night I had to stay in a bnb. Hotels were expensive, and my friend said she uses airbnb. I was really short on time and got caught up in the registration process with airbnb. As someone else said about registering for Save-On Foods delivery from online ordering, “I’d rather stick needles in my eyes for an hour.” But somehow I managed it, and then I got an email “You will receive a reply within 24 hours.” Great – I needed it within one hour, because I had to drive to the next outta town location.  The reservation confirmation arrived just in time, so I didn’t cancel it. Glad, because it would have been a long nasty drive home in the dark, otherwise.

So I get to this crazy place, narrow driveway behind a Tim Hortons. Smooth old fir floors, not too badly maintained. Crusty and stained old ornamental mouldings and crusty and stained ceiling tiles. I only saw one silverfish in the bathroom.

On the door, “An old bear lives here with his honey.” I liked that. The old guy, a Scotsman and former logger, was quite pleasant. Quizzed me about breakfast, which I don’t eat, but it’s a bnb thing, so I took away a couple boiled eggs for lunch.

But after some friendly quizzing about the geology course I was taking, he found his opening to share his apparently-creationist pamphlet with me. I felt a little steamed, as I came here to bathe and sleep, not to have more of this crap pushed at me. Someone leaves it around my apartment building: the lobby, the laundry room. I always take it and recycle it.

So, I figured it was time to quiz him about something in their bnb ad, the queer fact that the place is “not suitable for persons with alternative lifestyle.” Immediately I thought of the man I saw on the ferry from Victoria the other day. He was about 40 years old or so, with massive dreadlocks and a tie-dye t-shirt, and two teenaged boys with 1950s style clean-cut hair-do’s. I asked him what the statement in their ad meant, because I wasn’t sure.

“Me either. Ya know, when I came over from Scotland in my 20s, I didn’t know what homosexuality was. We had never heard of it.” Well, Oscar Wilde had heard of it over 100 years ago, but if you haven’t heard of Oscar Wilde, you’re at a disadvantage, I suppose. Don’t expect his books were that popular in the logging camps. “I didn’t even know about pregnancy.” Well, no need to base your life on your ignorance, I thought. Why not overcome it? But I just said, “That’s dangerous.”

Cut to the chase, before I recycled the pamphlet I found out the key point – Jehova’s Witnesses do not consider themselves fundamentalist Christians, because they do not believe the world was created in some short number of years but rather that the x number of days for creation would not have been days as we understand them, periods of 24 hours. But I doubt the pamphlet explained Oscar Wilde or pregnancy.

That morning, in the Jehova’s Witness’s home, I took extra pleasure in listening to the wholesome 1950s song “Mr. Sandman” by the Chordettes and watching my favourite male bellydancer playfully dancing to it. Pretty sure he’s gay because of how he talks, not that it’s my business, but it did give the moment that extra zest and a big smile for me.