Vaughn is one of the more unpleasant people I've encountered in my lifetime. His house is impeccably furnished and accessorized, his dog is predictably endearing and his neighborhood is a cheap ethnic food mecca, but none of this could really offset the profound sense of unwelcomeness my boyfriend and I felt from the moment he nastily demanded that we take off our shoes and place them by the front door, to the point 37 or so hours later that he neglected to make eye contact when we placed the keys in his hand. (He works from home, so we spent most of our time in SF far, far away from the apartment.) On our first evening there, he rapped loudly on the door demanding to know if "everything [was] okay in there" after we closed the window, which seemed new and closed a bit too loudly/quickly for his temperament. On our second morning there, at 9 am, I was sitting on the bed engaged in a work phone call when he emphatically interrupted it to command me to "strip the bed when [I] get a chance." It really isn't that hard to make other humans feel comfortable in one's presence, but we paid for the privilege of having Vaughn literally make us feel like squatters. Zero stars. The Guantanamo of airbnbs.