The art of being a good house guest

Several respectful visitors were missed, but then there were another kind, Jane Macdougall says.

A well-appointed guest bedroom is a glorious thing.

It speaks of the finest of human expression: Hospitality. Geniality. Connection.

A guest bedroom, however, can also leave you in the crosshairs of expert freeloaders. It can become a public amenity. Being able to accommodate can be interpreted as an obligation to accommodate. Palm trees, ski hills, cruise ship terminals — these place you at elevated risk of being highly attractive to opportunists. Golf courses, discount malls, The Great White Way — attractions like these leave you vulnerable to the guileful. Miraculously, these problems evaporate if you move to Fond-du-lac, Sask.

For a short while, I lived in Boca Raton, Fla. For a couple of years, I lived in Greenwich, Conn. Boca Raton lured with relentless sun, while Greenwich is a bedroom community to the playground that is Manhattan. Our guest room was a popular destination. We were wildly popular. A quick finger count reveals that we had close to two dozen guests during these few years. Some of these guests were ideal. Some of them I smothered in their sleep and buried in the backyard.

I had to.

If you decide to pop corn in your host's kitchen at three in the morning, you take your chances.

But the good house guests made it all worthwhile.

They arrived with plans that allowed the household to carry on with its necessary business.

I might take the first day to show guests the sights, but they were well and able to manage without me. They pitched in with dishes and cooking.

Bottles of wine would materialize on the kitchen counter. There was a quid pro quo of reciprocal restaurant meals in South Beach. We might take them to Madison Square Garden for a game, and they would take us to see a Broadway show. They'd bring home coffee beans and bagels, while I'd lay in lox and cream cheese.

At some point during the visit, there would be the opportunity for quiet conversation wherein confidences were exchanged and the friendship deepened. You'd bid each other “good night” at the top of the stairs and feel all warm and fuzzy about your relationship. When they left, the bath and bed linens were deposited in the laundry room and a florist delivered flowers the following day. We missed them when they were gone.

And then there were the other ones.

The ones who sat expectantly at the breakfast table and asked what the plans were for the day.

The ones who only ate non-gmo chia seeds with oat milk, but who had failed to mention this. The ones who would make themselves Reuben sandwiches and leave sauerkraut, corned beef, mustard and frying pans on the counter waiting for the kitchen fairy to clean up.

The one who made popcorn at three in the morning — oh, did I wake you? — explaining something about jet lag and time zones. The ones who took half-hour showers and who were disappointed the towels weren't organic cotton.

Being a good house guest takes a bit of scholarship. You can't just presume that you're doing it well. Newspapers used to offer etiquette columns that helped us learn the ropes for so many social situations, but the information can still be found. And maybe it's not a bad idea to keep the existence of your guest room on the down-low. At the very least, no one could blame you for having a pre-emptive excuse at the ready. After all, even Confucius acknowledged the complexities around hosting guests.

“Every house guest brings you happiness. Some, when they arrive, and others, when they are leaving.”