Home Invasion

Since separating from my wife about two years ago, I’ve mostly lived in Air B&B’s. I spent some time at a friends house here and there, but I don’t feel comfortable imposing on my friends and I’ve also been eager to try out different areas of town. I’d like to get a feel for where I want to live long term.

I’ve had ups and downs with different hosts. Everyone has different ideas about cleanliness, noise, and acceptable numbers of visits by police.

I stayed at one house where the owner was remodeling the guest bathroom. The only bathroom available was the master bathroom. I had to walk through the host’s bedroom to use the bathroom or the shower. She said she didn’t mind. I was a little disturbed by this.

Another house had rules posted in every room, a map of the house in the bedroom and a blue binder with all the rules neatly collected in one spot. It felt like a college dormitory. Some of the house laws dealt with splashing toothpaste on the bathroom mirror, and the proper use of a dish towel. Clearly the owner had been traumatized by prior visitors. I’m sure there was a story behind each rule in the blue binder.

Some hosts publicly flaunted their anxieties in the rules. For example, “Please keep this door closed.” would have been fine. “Please keep this door closed so my dog doesn’t run out into the street where she might get hit by a car.” opens a whole can of anxiety that should probably be dealt with by a licensed professional.

One time, the very first thing a host said to me was, “Are you okay with weed”? I don’t mind, but what if I did? That should have been in the listing.

Another place had at least two visits by uniformed police officers. It seems one of the occupants left their toddler unattended in the car while they ran into Walmart and someone reported them. I stayed in my room during these visits.

The place I’m currently staying at however, is absolutely beautify. It is a million dollar house in a quiet gated community in Newbury Park.

The neighborhood is exceptionally quiet, except for the tiny little disturbance I accidentally caused.

When I arrived at this lovely house, the host greeted me and gave me the rundown on how guests can come and go. He said that the front door is to remain locked. Guests park on the street and walk around the back of the house, through the blue gate, to the back door. The back door will always be unlocked. He asked me to leave my shoes just inside the door so I wouldn‘t get the carpet dirty.

He emphasized that I should walk through the blue gate, and around to the back door of the house. He mentioned the blue gate more than once, so I made a mental note, “Be sure to walk through the blue gate.”

I stayed there for one night, then I had an out of town engagement. I texted the owner that I would be away for three days. He thanked me for letting him know and reminded me to go around the back of the house through the blue gate when I returned.

I told him that I understood. The blue gate marked the entrance to Nirvana. All I needed was contained in the portal just beyond the blue gate. Seek the blue gate, and I shall find.

Three days later, I returned.

I had a hard time finding my way back since I was only there briefly a few days ago. Fortunately, Siri was able to guide me back to within a few yards of my original parking spot (which I had taken the time to mark just in case of such an emergency.)

It was early afternoon on a Sunday when I arrived. I walked around to the trunk of my car and retrieved my suitcase. I walked up the driveway and looked around. The houses all looked similar, but I easily spotted the blue gate.

I passed through the gate, suitcase in hand and walked down the side of the house. I turned the corner and strolled through the manicured back yard, toward the back door as I had been instructed. I opened the door, pulled my suitcase over the threshold and started to take my shoes off.

Something didn’t feel quite right, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.

I was standing in the kitchen, and I noticed there were two startled Asian people in surgical masks. “Oh, good” I thought, “I’ll get to meet my housemates.”

“Hi,” I said in a friendly voice. They weren’t particularly friendly. In fact, they were a bit rude. They were ignoring me and talking in Chinese to each other. They could have at least waved.

I thought I’d try to break the ice again. “Hi, I’m David. I’m staying in the other room.”

Something was bothering me by this time, but I didn’t quite know what. The kitchen was almost identical to what I remembered from a few days ago, but not the flooring. The flooring was off. I looked over at the living room and thought, “Oh, the owner must have replaced the couch in the last three days. I distinctly remember a grey couch with a white chair. This one is brown.”

“Hmmm,” I thought. “that sure is a lot of work for the owner to do in the last three days. Putting in new flooring and getting new furniture? This guy really knows how to make things happen.”

I’m a die-hard skeptic. I take pride in my critical thinking skills and something was nagging me. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it though.

The young couple in surgical masks started arguing in Chinese again. Good, now I could ignore them for a minute and focus on the problem at hand. What was it that was bothering me?

Occam’s razor! That was it. It’s the principle that, given two solutions, the simpler one is more likely to be correct. I still didn’t quite understand how that applied to this situation so I pondered this while the Chinese guests squabbled.

Replacing all the flooring in the kitchen and living room is a big task. How likely is it that the owner was able to do this in three days? That seemed like it would require a complex solution with many workmen and cost thousands of dollars.

How about the furniture? Why would the owner replace the brand new sofa and chair? That seemed unlikely too.

And finally, why are the Chinese guests so upset? They know that this is an Air B&B and that other guests may come and go at any time. Why would they…..

Oh, fuck.

No. That’s not possible. I saw the blue gate. I walked through the blue gate! The blue gate was right there. I remembered to look for the blue mother-fucking gate, just like the owner had told me!

I timidly posed a question to the Chinese couple. It was a question I did not want them to answer.

“Is this 1077?”

“NO!” they said in perfect unison, and very clear english. “That is next-door!”

My first impulse was to argue with them and say “But you have a blue gate!”. I decided not to. I was pretty sure I was in the wrong at this point.

“Oh, Shit! I’m soooo sorry! Don’t shoot me!” was the next thing that I heard myself saying.

I was having an out-of-body experience at this point. Time was moving very slowly. It was fascinating. I wished I had a teleport to get me out of there or a time machine to wind back the last five minutes of my life and stop myself from invading their kitchen.

“I’m leaving!” I exclaimed, almost as if I expected them to protest. “Good!” they replied.

For a second, I was happy that we were all on the same page now.

I tripped over myself trying exit as fast as I could. “I’m so sorry!” I said again as I hauled my ass and suitcase out of their kitchen and back into their expertly curated garden.

I retraced my steps along the side of their house and exited through the blue gate. “You see! I was right!”, I said to my egotistical inner voice that hates to be wrong. I think it wanted to go back and prove to them that I was right. I gave it a good strong slap across the face and told it to shut up.

I pulled my suitcase out their driveway and down the sidewalk. I looked at the address of the remarkably similar house next door. It read 1077; the address of the house where I was staying.

“But wait!”, I thought. “The blue mother-fucking gate! The Goddamn mother-fucking blue-ass gate! I walked through the correct mother-fucking gate! How could this have happened?!”

I stopped in my tracks to survey my surroundings. It was the first time I took a good look at the neighborhood. I scanned the collection of million-plus-dollar houses, and then I noticed something peculiar. Each house had a blue gate on the side, leading to the back yard. Every single mother-fucking house had a Goddamn blue gate.

“What a STUPID fucking idea!” I said quietly (or possibly loudly) to myself.

I rounded the corner to the house next door. I walked around back and entered the kitchen. The flooring and the furniture were exactly as I remembered.

I rolled my suitcase into my room and laid down on my bed.

I let the full gravity of the situation wash over me as I lay face down in the bed, overcome with remorse, embarrassment, and self-loathing. “This will be a great topic for therapy next week.”, I thought to myself

I walked into the back door of a stranger’s house with my suitcase and startled them as they were cleaning. I walked in unannounced, invaded their home and their privacy and demanded they allow me to stay in one of their bedrooms.

I wanted to go back over and apologize again. I was also afraid that, if I did, I might get shot this time.

I was very careful to check the house number before I walked through any more blue gates for the remainder of my stay.