Midnight has arrived. We went to bed after my husband wrapped it with a towel. The door flew open around two in the morning. The owner of Airbnb barged in, yelling, “You fools, this is a
Blinking like deer in headlights, my husband and I sat up in bed. Standing in the doorway, gasping, was the proprietor, a man in his late forties with graying hair and a Hawaiian-print shirt that was totally inappropriate for the occasion. His gaze flicked between the towel-covered gadget and us.
“Are you even aware of what you did?” With a voice that was a mixture of alarm and fatigue, he went on.
I turned to face my spouse, who was still taking it all in. “What?” “What?” I was able to say.
With a moan, the owner strode to the wall. When he pulled the towel away, he revealed—well, no camera. Rather, it was a small blinking light on a circular, white fire alarm.
He snarled, “This is not some spy camera.” It’s a detector for smoke! A mandate from the law for rental houses! The system immediately notified me of a malfunction, and you took care of it.
I parted my lips, then shut them again. then opened it one more. “All right, but—” I began.
“But what?” The proprietor lost it. “You believed I was observing you while you slept? How come I would want to do that?
I flinched. “Well, when you say that…”
At last, my husband was able to express himself. “It was blinking, to be fair,” he remarked slowly. Additionally, it appeared suspicious.
The proprietor laughed sharply. Because it’s functioning, it blinks. What would be suspicious, do you know? if it failed to blink!
In fact, that made sense.
There was an agonizing quiet in the room. I could feel the shame searing in my face.
In an attempt to salvage something from this catastrophe, I said, “Look.” We’ve read about Airbnbs having covert cameras. You can’t hold it against us for exercising caution.
The proprietor stroked his temples and moaned. “I understand. Yes, I do. But I have a question for you— He gestured toward the ceiling. Do you think I would use something so plainly in plain sight if I wanted to video you in secret? As in, at the center of the ceiling?
The proprietor raised his hands. “Thank you!”
Desperate to shift the topic, I cleared my throat. “Well, so… You claimed that the system warned you. Does that imply—?
“Yes,” the proprietor interrupted. It indicates that the security system called me at two in the morning to report that the property’s fire alarm had failed. To stop you from—” he gestured hazily at the ceiling, “I had to get out of bed, drive all the way here, and storm into my own Airbnb like a maniac. “—choking to death while you sleep.”
I blinked. Do we suffocate ourselves?
Indeed! A fire alarm should never be covered! You wouldn’t have been notified in time if there had been a real fire!
Another long stillness.
I gave a feeble laugh. “All right, so, that was a major misunderstanding.”
The proprietor moaned. Indeed. You believe?
At last, my spouse made the decision to simply own it. He smiled sheepishly and shrugged. “Hey, you know your system works now, at least.”
The proprietor merely gazed at him. “That— That isn’t how this operates.”
“All right, fair,” my spouse acknowledged.
I made the decision to cut off communication before we exacerbated the situation. “We sincerely apologize. All we did was panic.
Evidently attempting to relax, the owner inhaled deeply. “All right. Just— He gestured at the alarm. “Just leave it alone. Please.
Both of us gave enthusiastic nods.
“All right. I must now drive home and attempt to restore my sleep routine, if you will pardon me. He slammed the door behind him and turned to complain all the way out.
My spouse and I just sat there for a while, gazing at the smoke detector, which was no longer covered by a towel and was definitely not a concealed camera.
My spouse then turned to face me. “So, uh… do you think we ought to mention this in a review?”
I gave him a pillow smack. “Definitely not.”