Fairly Fairy Tales of Today
PART ONE
The Drei Baren Airbnb
1 Review
*
Goldie L.
I’m giving this place a one-star rating because zero stars is not an option. Where should I begin?
The food temperatures were inconsistent, ranging from either too hot or too cold. And porridge was the only entree choice.
Any seating that wasn’t uncomfortable was of shoddy construction. I’m a petite girl and one chair fell apart as soon as I sat in it.
The beds were too high (not ADA compliant) or too low (difficult to get out of). Neither were conducive for a good night’s sleep. I left before completing my stay.
With so many other establishments in the area, I would not recommend patronizing this one.
Response from owner
I’m dismayed to read this review. As a co-owner of the Drei Baren Airbnb, I feel it is important to address the issues raised and include information conveniently omitted.
1) You arrived unannounced when everyone was out getting provisions for our next guests. Since this is peak season, we have scarce time during our one “turn-around” day and must fully utilize it, which is why nobody was on site. Also, our records indicate that you did not have, then or previously, a reservation with us.
2) The CCTV footage shows you entering the unlocked front door without knocking or ringing the bell. Our Open-Door policy is for paying guests only. I’m not a cop, but it appears you committed a B&E to our BnB.
3) You accessed the personal quarters of our residence, disregarding the clearly marked “Off Limits. Staff Only” signage.
4) The porridge you tasted was part of a menu created specifically for the dietary needs of a guest who will be staying with us this week. That food had to be thrown away since you sampled each bowl, twice, using the same spoon.
5) The chair you broke was an antique and part of the décor, not a functional piece of furniture. (BTW, I looked up “petite” in the dictionary and did not see your picture.) The clean sheets you soiled necessitated rewashing.
6) As small business owners, we take pride in the service and experience we offer. Instead of leaving this false, negative review, you should have reached out to us directly with some monetary compensation for the damage incurred during your brief “stay” at the Drei Baren.
Pappa B.
PART TWO
“Run, run as fast as you can. You can’t catch me. I’m the Gingerbread Man.”
Glancing up from my phone, “I’m sorry, what’s that?”
“I said, ‘Run, run as fast as you can. You can’t catch me. I’m the Gingerbread Man.’”
Confused and looking around, “Ah, are you talking to me?”
“Why yes, I am. I feel it’s important to clarify that you can’t catch me. I’m the Gingerbread Man and am very fleet of foot.”
“Ooookay, that’s strange, but I don’t think I know you. Have we ever met?”
“We have not.”
“Then what’s this all about? Why would I want to catch you?”
“I’m the Gingerbread Man and you want to eat me, of course.”
“I understand you’re the Gingerbread Man. I heard you the first three times. But believe me, I have no desire to chase you or even eat you.”
“You’re saying that now so I won’t run away.”
“No, I’m saying that now because it’s true. Dude, seriously, why are you bothering me? I’m just sitting here minding my own business, trying to relax on my day off. So please by all means, run away. I promise I won’t chase you.”
“I will but I’m so speedy, you wouldn’t be able to catch me.”
Rolling my eyes, “That’s great. Fine. Whatever makes you feel better. You’re fast. There, are we good now?”
“I told you I was faster than you.”
“Listen, I never said I was…ah, geez. Alright Usain Bolt, let me ask you some questions before you sprint off. Are you gluten-free?”
“What’s a gluten?”
“Fair enough. Were you handmade in a locally owned, carbon-neutral bakery?”
“I’m not sure where I was made.”
“Are you certified Kosher?”
“I’m Presbyterian.”
“Super. Is your ginger from a sustainable source that doesn’t result in the deforestation of the Amazon?”
“I can’t say for certain because I’ve never been out of the city.”
“Here’s my last question, are you more compatible with the Keto or the Paleolithic diet?”
“Um, I know I’m tasty.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“You’re trying to confuse me so you can catch me. And eat me.”
“Oh my word, you don’t get it. I wouldn’t waste my energy chasing your crumbly little ass because I have strict dietary and moral requirements regarding what goes in my body, none of which you meet. So, why don’t you go annoy someone else?”
“Alright, I will. But remember, you can’t catch me, I’m the Ging…”
“I know, I know, for the love of God, I know, but I don’t care if you’re the Gingerbread Man. Or a Keebler elf. Or a Newton named Fig. So kindly piss off and leave me alone.” Under my breath, “This is why I don’t like coming to the park on the weekends.”