So, Air BnB has restored my faith in humanity - really.
Recently divorced white guy from rural Minnesota decided to take his kids on a trip to Seattle to bond. Poor guy - daughter is 12 and son is 14 - they are pretty much destined to hate him for a few years. He had been emailing me for months - worried about details, asking for recommendations, scared because he has never used Air BnB, worried about the safety of his kids.
I was getting annoyed, frankly. Dude, I am not a travel agency. Show up, sleep, take a shower, make some coffee and eat a granola bar and get on with your life.Try not to pound holes in my walls and leave dead rodents and dubious sex toys - I am a simple person.
They arrive, and at this point, I kind of have a vested interest in them having a good vacation - like I am worried about them. He was what he looked like - grizzled guy, my age, strong Minnesota accent, working class, gruff.
We spoke intermittently, I offered suggestions on places to eat, visit, talked to the kids a few times. I jokingly offered him a beer if he needed to get away from the kids and watch the news (we don't have a tv in the rental and he was jonesing hard).
He took me up on it Tuesday night. Knocked on the front door looking as much like a man that could use a drink as I have ever seen. We watched the news, I gave him a beer, then another. Chris was trying to sleep, so we went out on the patio to talk. We talked politics, gender issues, class, technology, society, family dynamics. He was sincerely worried his 12 year old daughter hated him. Maybe because it was 2 a.m. at this point, so I told him that she probably did and would get over it, but it was going to take a few years.
I had spent a few years in Minnesota with my mom for reasons related to my parents' divorce that I still don't entirely understand (NO ONE moves to Minnesota from Hawai'i without a very good reason - we had no family there, no connections, people had to wear shoes WITH socks - not my scene) and we talked about the old music scene.
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We made Minnesota ties fast - both my mom and I are pretty social people. I actually met some of my best friends there and so did she (Deborah Healey). I remembered Paigey and Chrissie F and I going to shows in downtown and uptown, hanging out at Northern Lights record store, smoking cloves, getting into the 7th Street Entry and other music venues to see shows. We were 12. No one asked. Because a punker wearing braces with a shaved head, and anarchy sign in marker on her face smoking a clove looks a lot like an 18 year old, I guess.
Minnesota was hard for me, but I did get an intense appreciation for protest music. And causing mischief. And the people. So, Jason and I (our guest) had some heated conversation and some really cool insights.
I guess I was impressed when he said, several times, "Wait. I want to hear your perspective." I don't even say that often enough. Longest stay we have had - 7 days. No one died, no clear signs of property destruction - I am happy.
Today, as they were leaving, he confessed that he hasn't been on a plane since 9/11 and was terrified (they took the train here). He also told me he had filled the holes in the walls created by my other interesting guests, fixed the damn shower door (been broken for a year - so old, there are no parts), and washed "the linens". I almost cried. I asked the kids if things were better or worse after spending the week with their dad. They both said, "Better. A little better".
Dads are hard. I'm going to get bossed around by mine and expect a battle of wills when I insist on some changes after he recovers from surgery on his spine next month. It sure isn't going to be a relaxing vacation in Hawai'i, but for me, it never is. I am always grateful for thoughtful conversations and spirited debate. To have potentially seen a change in circumstance and belief is a freaking wet dream for me. To have a relative stranger, with whom I have almost nothing in common, show me that kindness was beyond touching.
Now, I am going to take a shower. Because I can finally close the damn door.
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