Inns and outs of becoming an Airbnb host
“She came bearing earplugs,” my daughter Paige is telling me about her latest Airbnb guest.
“She snored?” I guessed.
“And how! When I walked into the hall, I thought the coffee pot was gurgling.”
The guest was otherwise delightful, Paige assured me. In fact, my daughter and her long-time boyfriend, John, both grad students living on stipends, would invite back all the visitors they have hosted in their small house through Airbnb, the online juggernaut that pairs travelers and home-based lodging.
Ten years ago, the idea of getting in a stranger’s car for a ride, or spending the night in the home of someone you’d never met, seemed not only absurd but downright dangerous. Yet here we are in the digital age of Uber and Airbnb (founded in 2009 and 2008 respectively) trading trust for savings and convenience.
Somehow, it’s working out. As my mother used to say almost daily, “What a world.”
“If you want to make some money, you have to take some risk,” Paige told me, which is not what a mother wants to hear. Besides my daughter and John, my brother, several friends and millions of others around the world have joined the inadvertent innkeepers club.
Paige and John get $45 for their guest room on a typical weeknight, and up to $200 a night on a football weekend, since they live near Texas A&M. Airbnb helps them know the going rates in real time.
My friend and colleague Vicki Larson, who is single, lives in Mill Valley and hosts two Airbnbs. I called her for the skinny. Three years ago, when her youngest moved out, she began renting out his empty bedroom, she said.
“It was shockingly easy,” said Vicki, who rents the room for $89 a night.
“Weren’t you afraid of, well, creeps?” I asked.
“You put yourself at some risk,” she said. However, she lightly screens prospective guests by asking them a few questions — Where are you coming from? Why are you coming? Who’s coming with you? — before accepting their request. She also has a lock on her bedroom
door.
“I’ve met the nicest nice people,” she said, but she also has witnessed some weirdness, like the female boundary buster who came alone and, despite the clear no-guests policy, had a visitor. “I’m having my morning coffee, and out comes this guy. That’s not supposed to happen!”
But that didn’t stop Vicki from doubling down. A year ago she bought a tiny house and parked it in her backyard. She furnished the 13-by-8.5-foot A-frame with a loft bed, sitting area, bathroom and kitchenette. She landscaped it to look like a fairy’s cottage.
“The place is booked nonstop,” said Vicki, who
typically rents it for $104 a night, often to guests intrigued by the tiny house concept.
“Guests tend to treat your house like a hotel,” said John, Paige’s boyfriend, “when in fact it’s far more personal. You live there, too, as hotelier and roommate.”
It may not be for everyone, but many homeowners are turning their extra bedrooms into extra income. Here are some ins — or rather, inns — and outs from those brave enough to try.
KEEP IT LEGAL >> Before opening your home to short-term renters, be sure your city and your homeowner’s association allow it. Report income and pay taxes. Vicki collects a 12% tourism tax, like local hotels and bed and breakfasts do.
BE CLEAN AND FRIENDLY >> “Don’t do this if you don’t like to keep a clean house or if you’re not a people person,” said Vicki, who’s earned “Superhost” status. Her accommodations have 5-star ratings, and 100% of recent guests have ranked them “sparkling clean.”
VET YOUR VISITORS >> Instabook is an online option that lets guests book instantly without hosts approving them. Although Airbnb encourages this, neither Vicki nor Paige uses it. Both want to first know who’s coming and why. “However, if you decline too often,” Vicki said, “you’ll get flagged, and that can work against you.”