My Nightmare Airbnb Stay in Osaka
Be careful which location you choose, it could be your last
I sat there contemplating the door. Something that should keep you safe, can also be a sign of terrible things to come. A shake here. A rattling of a doorknob there.
My door, here in this dank and warm hovel, wasn’t a door at all. It was a board propped up against the wall; or may as well have been. From my view inside the room, a shoe-sized hole graced the lower half of the door. Somebody’s rowdy night? Were they trying to get out? The upper half was flimsy and seemed to not even be made out of wood but rather some sort of plasticky material. The lock could turn, but not tightly. I tested it out; locked the door, and pushed it somewhat firmly with my shoulder. Popped right open.
I was staying in Osaka for a night for a work-related seminar. Not wanting to spend much cash, and wanting to be near the drinking area of Namba, I opted out of getting a normal hotel room. Near the heart of the party district hotel prices were tragically high. I had never done Airbnb before either, so I thought: let’s give it a try. The worst scenario is a bad room, no biggie I just need to park my body there for the night. Not a problem if you’re not reasonably afraid that someone will come and steal that body, or knife it.
I’ve stayed in some funky places before. The worst was in Laos when a friend and I missed the last check-in time for our hotel. We ended up sleeping on the street under the red glow of a Communist monument depicting soldiers and farmers rushing forward into revolution. A guy in his underwear and sweaty undershirt walked by and offered us a place to stay for $.50 each. We agreed, but I didn’t touch the blankets of the hostel he took us to, I could see tiny insects crawling around on them.
This place in Osaka rivals the Laoitian bug den. It wasn’t dirty, but it was dangerous and shady af.
The Airbnb was an old hotel. Why it showed up on Airbnb is anybody’s guess. I arrived at the ground entrance and was greeted by an empty hall and a lonely elevator, no front desk. I took the elevator and it it automatically stopped at the third floor. Here was the front desk. Manned by a young guy slumped over the counter not making eye contact with anyone.
I got my key and headed up to my room. Before the doors to the elevator closed an older man and a younger woman got it. The man was in a suit, with scraggly grey hair wildly searching for a place to rest. The woman was in a maid outfit and was in her mid-20s.
Hey, I don’t judge. We got off on the same floor. The mismatched couple went to the left, I to the right. My room was at the end of the hallway, dimly lit by a yellow light. The first thing that I noticed when I opened the door was how breakable it felt.
After twenty minutes or so of looking at my “door”, and debating whether or not I should leave my valuables in the room, or even sleep that night, I got up to hit the streets for some dinner.
As I approached the elevator I noticed the girl in the maid outfit coming out of it from a lower floor, alone. We passed each other but I didn’t think much of it. After I was done bouncing around the city for a few hours, I returned to the hotel to get some sleep. And once again, I shared the elevator ride up with an older man and a younger maid….this time they were two different people. As they got off at my floor, the maid I had met earlier in the night got in with an older guy, a different guy than she was with at first
Shit, is this a brothel? Well, it couldn't have been that, officially. Otherwise, I would never have been able to get a room. More likely than that, a group of women had rented out almost the entire floor, save for my room, to use for their “business dealings.” Old man in suits and young maid is an entire genre of fetish out there. Now you know, whether you wanted to or not.
I hit my room for a quick shower and headed back out again to grab a snack from the next-door 7-11. Didn’t see the maids this time, and felt kinda lonely, like running into them had become a ritual homecoming thing for me. I did however meet an aggressive Thai woman right outside the hotel entrance.
“Hey”
“Ummm hi”, I replied.
“I’ll have sex with you for money, however much you got.”
“No thanks.”
With that, I tried to go inside but she grabbed my arm.
“C’mon just do it.”
I wasn’t even halfway interested. I took my arm back and went inside. I’ve seen pushy solicitation in other countries before, but never in Japan. I chose the perfect neighborhood for all the underground dealings of the city.
I got to my room. Piled my suitcases up against the door. Tied what was left of the hanging doorknob to my bedpost with my belt as a DIY tripwire. And somehow managed to sleep like a baby that night. No kidneys missing come the morning.
I’ve used Airbnb several times since then with no problems. Some venues weren’t so great, but none of them will ever equal the maid hotel in that dark corner of Namba.
No kidneys missing...you think.
This reminded me of old school communist student housing.