I would love to write a stellar review of this apartment, managed by Del Parque Flats, but unfortunately, each of my hopeless-believer-in-second-third-and-even-fourth-chances efforts to provide an occasion to write such a review was met with a slammed door. Or, rather, a door that was impossible to slam (keep reading this review if you’d like to understand this joke). From a basic usability standpoint, this apartment was not unlike an abandoned waterpark, a frightening mess top to bottom. Similar to my joke above, the punchline was delivered as a punch that leaves one feeling depressed and tired, waiting for an explanatory setup that may never arrive. The apartment itself is well-located, has comfortable living spaces, and seems reasonably priced—if it weren’t for the hassle of actually staying there.
My wife and I booked a two night stay here through Airbnb. I tend to be very gracious with Airbnb hosts, as I’ve hosted folks through the platform before, have operated several rental properties myself, and understand that there are many variables and factors with temporary rentals. However, I can’t speak lowly enough about the interactions I had with Del Parque Flats representatives via Airbnb once I reached out letting them know about a couple of issues upon arrival.
When we arrived, there were about four gallons of water on the bathroom floor, leaking out into the hallway and the bedroom next door. There were also obvious signs of long term water damage (water stains on the bedroom floor, a bathroom door that had water damage running up at least eight inches of the door and trim, causing the door to never be able to shut—hey, there’s your setup!). There was one soaked towel already sitting in the water, which did seem a strange omen, but I figured maybe there was some kind of leak, unknown to property management team, and I’d better get to work informing them and cleaning up.
I took pictures immediately and forwarded them to Del Parque Flats, letting them know about the situation and that it was there when we arrived late in the day, the day of check in. I then began to mop up water with two of the extra towels sitting on one of the extremely rickety beds, which I think may have been imported from a U.S. penitentiary. This was quite disgusting, as the towels were white and the water had clearly been sitting and soaking into the wood, the pipes, the door, and anything touching the ground in the surrounding area. However, this dirty job had to be done in order to enter the restroom at all. After about a half hour of cleaning, we could finally use the restroom.
After the first response for Del Parque Flats the following morning, which stated simply that they’d noted the situation and would have a look after we checked out, I gently suggested that they reduce our cleaning fee ($105). I explained that of course no one intentionally did this, and I’m sure it was some kind of overflow from previous guests, etc. All the niceties; I’m from Minnesota, after all. Since I had to spend a half hour (and more time later) wiping up dirty water and shifting towels around, and couldn’t even close the bathroom door for any privacy during the entirety of the stay, this seemed like a reasonable request. This was when things got funny (if you like badly told jokes, which you must, because you’re the type of person who can’t stop reading this review).
I reached back out after radio silence and our check-out. This was when Del Parque Flats began to shift their story, claiming that it was actually me who had caused the water—yes, even though it was all there and I sent photos upon arrival, which are timestamped, by the way. They claim that it came from a bucket that sits in the living room, which is about twenty-five feet away from where the icky bathroom liquid actually was, and that I had failed to empty the bucket, so it overflowed. Now, other than defying the laws of physics, contradicting all photographic evidence provided, and being an outright lie, one may now be asking oneself: why would there be a bucket of water that guests must empty every several hours in the living room? Let me tell you.
One of the many endearing quirks (if I were writing a kinder review) of this property is that the dehumidifier aspect of the AC system drains into a bucket in the living room rather than outside, where the water must ultimately go. When you arrive, without any previously delivered directions, you’re expected to locate a sheet of crusty paper that’s taped to the wall, sometimes behind a curtain, above this bucket, and follow the page long directions on the ins-and-outs of emptying it. It was this very sheet of paper that Del Parque Flats claimed I had never read. Wrong again!
(As an aside, I actually have an MFA in creative writing, and while this alone does not make anyone a great writer, I do really enjoy reading. I also grew up as a religious fundamentalist, and while I’ve since escaped that particular form of hell on earth, I am still quite the rule-follower. So rest assured, I had read the sheet of paper with directions, and I was taking great pleasure in the fact that I was following the rules—a personality defect common in obsessive neurotics like myself.)
I am an anxious person by nature and anxiously read the little sheet of paper that first night after anxiously looking around for sources of the water, in between anxiously wringing out sopping towels of bathroom water into the tub. You see, I’ve had many anxiety dreams where I awake to my home flooding, and this is simply too on-the-nose for me, as my analyst has pointed out many times that I have some sort of fear of problems outside of my control “drowning” or “suffocating” me. The good