The Airbnb Stay That Almost Killed Me, My Husband, & Our Dog

Living full-time in Airbnbs is a different kind of life. It’s a life that constantly shifts beneath your feet in both the best ways and worst ways.

Each new stop brings a fresh set of surroundings: unfamiliar kitchens, views out windows you’ve never looked through, and neighbors whose names you’ll likely never learn. With every new space comes a swirl of unpredictability. The variables in your day-to-day multiply—new towns, new rules, new rhythms—and you become very familiar with the unexpected.

In just the last couple of years, we’ve had a neighbor erroneously call the police on us, waves of strangers try to check into our rental while we were mid-stay, and one morning, a man we didn’t know showed up at our door with two overflowing bushels of fresh apples—no note, no explanation, no English. Just apples.

And honestly? I kind of like it. This life never gets stale. It stretches you, teaches you to adapt, and keeps your mind sharp. You stop coasting because you’re mind is constantly re-calibrating and adjusting. But there are sometimes when something more seriously unexpected happens. Recently, we avoided a situation that could’ve turned out very bad.

I was taking meetings on my laptop from the main living/work room, trying to focus while the shrill whine of power tools echoed through the walls. Construction was in full swing in the adjacent unit.

As the hours passed, I started feeling off. A slow, creeping wave of nausea and fatigue settled in, and my heart sank. I had just gotten over a back-to-back run-in with some kind of bug—virus, flu, something—and the thought of a third round, right when I had weekend plans lined up, felt like a sick joke.

To make matters worse, I was still recovering from an urgent dental visit the day before. My gums were sore, freshly lasered and reshaped, and my whole mouth felt like it was thawing from a deep freeze.

Oh yeah, and there was a raging forest fire in the nearby mountains. It was just one of those weeks.

Anyway, the construction crew soon started sawing into the foundation.

The noise was like a metal beast gnawing through stone. There was no way I could keep leading a meeting with that going on in the background, so I stepped outside.

It was a cool desert morning, and the front porch was shaded just enough to escape the heat. The air was crisp—surprisingly so, considering the wildfire burning in the distance, its faint plume of smoke rising just beyond the ridgeline. But where I sat, the breeze felt fresh. I sank into a chair, breathing a little deeper, starting to feel… not great, but better.

I went back inside briefly, refilled a glass of water, then stepped outside again for another ten or fifteen minutes. I tried to get through some work but found myself constantly looking up in awe at the sight of the wildfire.

After I wrapped up my meeting, I headed back inside and found Brad. He looked pale and unsteady, leaning against the counter like the room was spinning. “I feel really lightheaded,” he said, rubbing his temples.

That stopped me. Weird. I had felt the exact same way just an hour earlier.

As we were talking it over, a sudden, sharp beeping went off.

I looked up—there it was: the carbon monoxide alarm, flashing and wailing. For a second, we just stared at each other. Well, this can’t be good.

A quick check on ChatGPT confirmed we needed to get out asap.

So we grabbed the dog and bolted outside.

Back on the patio, still a bit dazed, we messaged the owners to let them know what was happening. No immediate reply. We waited, breathing in the cool desert air, trying to shake off the unease. Eventually, they arrived, and the pieces started to come together.

Turns out, the contractors had been using a gas-powered saw to cut through the foundation. When they wrapped up for the morning, they hadn’t ventilated the space properly. The fumes had crept into our unit—slowly, invisibly—until the carbon monoxide levels became dangerously high.

It made sense now. I’d started to feel better only because I’d stepped outside for a while, soaking in the fresh air without realizing how much I needed it. Brad, on the other hand, had stayed inside the entire time, breathing it in. And our poor corgi—well, being just a foot off the ground with those tiny legs might’ve worked in his favor. Sometimes it pays to be close to the floor.

It could’ve ended a lot worse.

If that alarm hadn’t been there—or if it had failed—we might’ve gone hours without realizing what was happening. Let me remind you: the gas is silent, scentless, and invisible. If I had stayed outside working while Brad tried to rest inside, would he have just… fallen asleep and never woken up?

It was scary, no doubt. But we were lucky. After the immediate chaos passed, we decided to spend the rest of the day doing the exact opposite of sitting indoors. We took a scenic drive, explored the nearby canyons, and soaked up as much clean, open air as we possibly could.

That night, we also made a decision: we bought a portable carbon monoxide detector. It’s a small thing, easy to pack, but after this experience? It feels essential. Because the truth is, you never really know—and having a backup could mean everything.

As for the owners, they’d actually been kind and helpful in other areas—we’d already been working through a few minor issues—so I didn’t feel the need to bring out the attorney side of me. That said, I’m fairly certain that if we had filed a formal complaint with Airbnb, we could’ve been relocated and possibly refunded in full. But at this point in my life, I’m a firm believer in picking my battles.

In this case, it felt like the real issue was negligence on the part of the construction crew. The owners assured us that the crew wouldn’t be back with gas-powered tools, and they also offered us a partial refund, which we accepted. That felt fair.

I’m sure as we continue living in Airbnbs, we’ll keep running into surprises—some stressful, some strange, and some just plain unbelievable. But that’s part of the lifestyle. It keeps you on your toes, keeps life interesting. And if nothing else, it makes for a good story later.