First things First. I survived the Airbnb debacle. Using intuition, common sense, and a healthy dose of WTF, I decided to abandon ship (with the strong encouragement of my friends.) The image of the pretty little sailboat anchored in the harbor, a cozy and welcoming cabin, a gentle night sleep with the sound of waves kissing the bow, well, it was all a fantasy. But I want to start at the beginning. Because there is a story and thankfully, it ended well.

A TASTE OF SALT LIFE

Upon arrival in Key West, I texted my contact Chance that we would like to check out the boat that evening after we caught a bite to eat. I say “we” because my friend Ronnie had unexpectedly decided to stay a few extra days and had generously agreed to stay on the boat with me, thereby relieving my anxiety about sleeping solo on an anchored sailboat. It was about 9pm when I got back in touch with Chance about motoring out to the boat. It was then that I discovered the Amba was anchored 15 minutes out of the harbor, not the 5 minutes as advertised. Apparently, Chance was half in the bag and wasn’t in the mood to take us out that evening. He was actually whining, telling me to pack light. Pack light? Was he picking me up on a jet ski? To be honest, the thought of climbing on the boat in the dark and getting the lay of the land with an inebriated guy did not excite me either. My friends Peter & Spring, whose home I would be staying at after the sailboat graciously extended me the opportunity to stay with them. Disaster averted.

Chance was unable to pick us up at the dock the next day so Pops, his father arranged to get us. (My vision of Chance was way off, turns out he was the young twenty-something son of Pops, who shared the airbnb operation with his Dad.) Pops was about my age, stocky and deeply tanned, he spoke with a heavy Carolina accent and while perfectly accommodating, turned out to be quite the ladies man(in his eyes). As we rode the skiff out to Amba, Pops talked about his operation. He owned four boats and he was busy sprucing them up, he had big plans to create his own little party central out on the water, a floating bar, glass-bottomed kayaks, bonfires on the adjacent island. It sounded great, until we rounded a bend and he pointed out our boat Amba bobbing ahead in the surf.

I thought he was joking. Amba looked like she should be in dry dock, bruised and battered, she was in desperate need of a paint job and some serious love. Of course, I was thinking, give it a chance.  It’s probably hurricane damage, the interior is going to be better. Not so much. We pulled alongside and shimmied up onto deck. We were set to spend the day. How bad could it be? We had Rum Dummies, wine, snacks, sun and water. Pops came aboard and showed us the ropes. It was live-able but run down. The head and the shower seemed serviceable, the sleeping bunk was tiny but neat. The lights were not operational but Pops said the solar lamps worked fine. Funny thing was every time he showed us something and it didn’t work or turn on, he acted surprised.

He then asked my friend and I if we were straight. Seriously. I gave him my stern look and he clarified that if couples wanted privacy he provided colored glow lights for signaling. Red for stay away, privacy needed. Green for all’s clear. This gave me pause. What would he be doing prowling around late at night for anyway? It’s not like I’d be ringing for room service. Although Pops was more then willing to bring us supplies, beer, more snacks? He helpfully told us that a group of girls who stayed on the boat last week stripped down to nothing to sunbathe. Even invited him aboard to party with him. Ronnie and I exchanged that all-knowing female look. We gave him no encouragement and he departed. The next hour was spent assessing the possibility of sleeping onboard. The obvious conclusion was no. We could have tempted fate and taken our chances but we saw no purpose in having a sleepless night in an airless cabin with the sketchy father/son duo lurking about. Instead, we spent the day lounging on the deck, enjoying the salt breezes, the occasional passing squall, and catching up on each others lives.

Pops did eventually return to bring us back to land, we made an excuse about not sleeping aboard and he promised he would pick us up the next day between 11 and 1 and take us kayaking and snorkeling at the Wisteria wreck. I could tell he felt a little bad that we weren’t staying overnight, missed shenanigans? Predictably though, Chance and Pops were mysteriously unavailable until 4:30pm the next day. We did take him up on his offer to motor us out to Christmas Island where he left us on its rocky shore with some snorkel gear and a kayak to watch the sunset. We were joking and laughing about having to overnight with the tent squatters who lived on the interior of the island. By the time Pops returned, it was dark and the bottle of wine had been consumed. The entire way back to the wharf, Pops kept saying how he would appreciate a 5 star review. The man was audacious, he had that going for him.

Which brings me back to the whole concept of Airbnb and reviews. These boats are a relatively cheap alternative to lodging in Key West where the prices in high season can be outrageous. Pops & Chance had several decent reviews, most likely from people who had low expectations and were taken in by his laid back veneer and  southern charm. The vicious reviews were probably earned as well. There was no room for an agenda on this boat and you had to be super chill when it came to the minimal comforts like lights and well… comfort. You really want to go out there and stay put, going back and forth to enjoy Key West doesn’t fit in to the owners sense of scheduling. And I would never recommend the Amba to a solo woman, even a duo. There’s no sense of security and the owner’s lackadaisical attitude adds to one’s sense of peril. There should be standards in the Airbnb world but I think there is also serendipity in this model, you don’t know what you’re going to get when you are staying in someone else’s idea of home.Without a rating system, you have to carefully consider the reviews. I may have paid more attention to Greg’s DO NOT STAY ON THIS BOAT, the capital letters were indeed a warning. Hospitality looks different for every individual. For Pops & Chance, Amba provided an authentic glimpse into the Salt Life. They could not understand the bad reviews. To me, the Amba would be like sleeping on a buddy’s couch in college. No amenities, no niceties, no breakfast or cup of  hot coffee.  You’re lucky to get a ride back to your car.