I’m good at moving—other people. And not just around town.
More than once, I’ve helped friends move from South Carolina to New York. There’s been moving trips from Chicago to Washington, D.C., San Francisco to Seattle and Seattle to Oakland.
In Chicago, I was willfully coerced into helping the person, who was taking over my friend’s apartment, move just a “few things,” including a monstrously heavy leather couch. When I moved to Oakland, I helped the person whose room I was taking over relocate his stuff.
I’m done moving other people. I’m done moving myself, too. After years of bouncing from home to home, I’ve committed to staying in one place. I’m locked in at a manageable rental rate in a vibrant neighborhood that is close to public transportation. I’d have to fabricate a reason to leave.
The Bay Area, with its glorious weather, is a place people like to visit. In the two years I’ve had my current apartment, I’ve had more people stay with me than in more than a decade as a working professional in South Carolina. In its defense, South Carolina doesn’t have a historic and golden bridge, distinct neighborhoods, cable cars or jaw-dropping views.
My door’s always open—for certain people.
I have a studio apartment, so a stay of several days, which people inevitably want to do in the Bay Area, means we must have a relationship that qualifies as intimate.
Selected guests include the following:
The friend who initially came for a conference. The friend decided to seek a job out here, and two rounds of interviews followed. Then there was the divorce trip. Then, the friend moved out here and stayed with me while the new apartment was prepped.
My retirement voyage as a long-distance mover was a one-day, 17-hour trip from Seattle to Oakland. I had to be at work at 9 a.m. the next morning. For two weeks my apartment was used as a depot to sift through belongings before they moved to Berlin. Of course, a lot of things were left behind, including a stocked refrigerator and cabinets.
Recently, and for the second time this year, my apartment was used as a sorting facility. A friend, who was returning home to Australia after two years in Oakland, moved everything that couldn’t be sold off into my hallway. Then the friend went traveling for a month. I was bequeathed a rocking chair, picnic basket and various kitchen items. I also got the desk I’m using to write this column on, as well as the lamp lighting my screen. Both were used by my friend to compose a debut novel.
When my parents visited for a week, they didn’t stay with me. The house I live in, divided into five separate apartments, doesn’t reach the level of accommodations my mother requires. She wants me to move to a newer, modern building. And she wants me to get a one bedroom so she can come stay with me for a month.
Sorry, Mama, I’m not there yet. I am happy to entertain you and anyone else who wants to visit. I’ll even let you stay with me. I’m getting a more comfortable couch, one that transforms into a bed. It will be more comfortable for a weeklong visit.
I understand that when you move to an area that’s desirable to visit, people will start making travel plans to crash with you. There’s etiquette that must be appreciated, though. Guests should bring something to leave behind.
Here are some ideas for people whose comfort you’re invading. In other words, these are ways to thank them for their hospitality.
Pop the cork. Spend $20 on a bottle of Champagne or wine and you’re fine. Unless the person has the trained nose and mouth of a sommelier, he or she won’t know the difference.
The hard stuff. If you know the host’s drink of choice, buy a bottle of that. If the person’s favorite drink is, say, a White Russian, buy the ingredients—vodka, Kahlua and milk. That would mean a lot to me.
Wine and dine. When I recently stayed with my brother, I paid for several meals, including the brunch where I treated him and his colleague to cocktails, entrees and two donuts for him. You can also cook for your host, but you’ll have to do the dishes.
Housekeeping. Staying with a friend isn’t the same as booking a hotel room or an Airbnb, so clean up after yourself. “Obviously,” you’re thinking. But I don’t just mean the dishes. Take the towels off the rack and leave them in a neat pile. Take the sheets off the bed or air mattress and do the same. Put the furniture back if you moved it. Most importantly, try to replace some of the things you used. Especially if it was a long stay.
Shop local. So you didn’t bring anything with you. That’s OK. You can help by putting money into the local economy. Just don’t get anything that locals abhor. For example, you wouldn’t buy an I Love New York T-shirt for a New Yorker. If you visit me, I don’t want anything that suggests my heart was left in San Francisco, because it wasn’t. Look around. Your host’s home will give you clues. Please, no gifts that require assembly instructions.
Think ahead. Leave something future guests can use. Or be practical: Buy toilet paper. Just make sure it’s the host’s preferred brand.
Gas money. Fork over cash, especially if your host has to take you to and from the airport or drive you around in any way. The person probably won’t accept it, but it’s the thought that counts.
Get carded. If shopping fails, a thank you card or note will do. Don’t mail it, though. Leave it so they will find it after you’re gone. If you’re already planning a return visit, you want to make sure you’ll be welcomed.
Otis R. Taylor Jr. is a San Francisco Chronicle columnist with a battle rap obsession. He is based in Oakland, Calif.