You step outside the house and open the Airbnb app. There’s an area where you can send messages to your host.
“Hey Zander?” you type.
“Welcome to the desert,” he replies quickly.
“So, I’m freaking out a bit.”
“Is the hot tub not working properly? The controls are actually in the house.”
“No, it’s the ghost hot dog eating contest.”
“Oh, is it March?”
“Yes. You never mentioned the place was haunted in your listing.”
“Didn’t you see the little ghost icon next to the microwave and wi-fi icons?”
You look at the listing again. Zander is right, there was a ghost icon. Damn it.
“I don’t want them here,” you text.
“They’ll be finished by sunrise,” he replies.
“Can I get a refund?”
No reply. You’re in the middle of nowhere, far from any hotels. Looks like you’re spending the night with hot dog eaters from beyond the grave.