Craigslist

A site that’s primary purpose is for people to sell their new-to-you belongings… It has served many people wondrously, get things at the going rate for a bargain. But should it be used for anything else?

Before I break into the brutal details of an unbecoming adventure let me first set the stage; I was not assaulted, but I was stupid. Annoyingly I did not hear about certain online platforms specifically made for penny-pinching travelers (ie. Couch surfing) until after I was out of this situation.

A friend of mine and I planned to visit San Francisco for the weekend and in doing so, we made a personal ad in Craigslist. It went to the tune of, “two girls looking for a place to stay in SF for the weekend,” and primarily started off as more of a laugh than an actual search for housing. However, as soon as we posted this ad on Craigslist, we received several inquiries with the majority from complete creeps (some of these as vague as “50. White male. Looking for some fun,” to detailed paragraphs requesting love favors in exchange for “cold hard cash”). As our trip neared we realized that the possibility of rooming with someone for the weekend and saving some dough seemed like a great idea. So we made plans to stay with a man in downtown SF.

As it always seems to happen, Our plans changed, and I was to stay in the city of love on my own, and room with this strange man alone that I had yet to meet.

The first warning sign was the fact that he gave us an address to a store, not his house, but with the thrill of this sudden change of events, I looked this detail over. The second was that he lied about living in San Francisco all together, and we had to take the BART to Hayward, which scored a lousy 14/100 safety rating for US cities (100 being safest), according to Neighborhood scout. After he took my belongings and dropped them off in his house while I stayed outside, we took the BART back to SF for a late night stroll through the city. I gave him the first $50 of $100 I offered for the three night stay.

He was a humble black man that lied about his height, “I’m pretty tall I hope that won’t be an issue,” when in reality he was two inches shorter than me (I’m 5’8), among other things like conversing about family matters over tea and biscuits with Taylor Swift. A pathological liar. Great.

Above is a photo taken by the craigslist man that said he was previously a photographer for Vogue. Right. 

It wasn’t until 4 am we finally made it back to his home which was literally a hole in the wall that he had to move a slab of wood for in order to get in the tiny room. While it was implied I would have my own room, he threw a comforter on the floor and slept directly below me. He handed me a moth-eaten, cum-stained blanket to which I politely declined then sunk myself deep into my sleeping bag with my purse at my feet.

When I awoke in the morning I could see there was an actual collection of maces hanging from the walls, and my fellow black man was watching Shrek. I asked to use the restroom, to which he replied, “nah, you can’t, I can’t let my mamma know you’re here.” There was no way I was going to stay there any longer. I called a hostel someone had told me about before I left for the trip, and praise be, the lady that answered told me they had one bed left.

The Green Tortoise charged $50 a night, and I wish I would have stayed there all along, but you live and you learn right? Besides, I’m sure the Hayward dude needed the money more than me, however, I would have rather slept at a bus stop.

By Camille Bliss