Lompoc Armageddon

A little of what you’ll find just steps away from UCSB’s dormitories: birds, beach, ocean. Who wouldn’t love going to school here?

My son and I drove to Santa Barbara last weekend so we could go to UCSB’s college preview day. Since the cost of lodging for two nights in those parts is about the same as my monthly mortgage payment (I am exaggerating. A little), we stayed in Lompoc, which is about an hour north, in an Airbnb that was reasonably priced. I was so proud of myself, finding something that was reasonably priced!

We left town Friday around 1:00 pm and got there around 8:00 pm, because even though Google Maps swears that it is a six hour drive, there is almost no way to do a drive like that without stopping. At least once.

The Airbnb was as pictured on the inside. But the photos didn’t show much of the outside, and the neighborhood was not what I expected. It didn’t feel unsafe, but it didn’t feel exactly safe, either. We were supposed to park on the street, and there wasn’t much available, especially if parallel parking is not your strong suit.

The host was clear in his expectations for our behavior (“No food in the room because of ants!”), so that was fine, but then in his “House Rules” binder, he shared what we could expect to see and hear in the house. We might find him meditating, so it was OK to walk around him, but please don’t speak to him. He had multiple cans in the communal kitchen area, for compost and recycling and trash, with a note on the one marked “trash” that said, “There really is no ‘away’.”

(Honestly? I agree. But when you are coming off a long drive where you primarily survived because of your Trader Joe’s Dill Pickle Chips and gas station Diet Cokes? You don’t want to feel scolded when you need to dispose of the leftovers.)  He also told us that he didn’t use phrases with his daughter like “Good job!” or “Be Careful!” but instead tried to say things like, “I can see you tried really hard on that!” and “I just want you to know the stepstool is wobbly, but you can decide what to do.”

(Our host has apparently never taught a child to drive. I went driving with my son this week, after we got back from our trip, to help him log his practice hours, and I think it would not have gone so well if I had said, “You might want to think about the tree behind you that it looks like you are about to back into!” instead of “Aaack! Brake, honey, brake!”

I also didn’t realize that he had two other rooms listed on the site and that we were sharing a bathroom with other guests. Maybe I read the listing wrong, but I thought it was just him and his daughter and us. There was a large sign on the bathroom door: “KEEP THE DOOR OPEN” when not in use. But of course, when I got up in the morning, the door was closed (with nobody in there. So the other guests were not as good at following rules as me, apparently.)

In that binder of house rules, he neglected to mention that occasionally the nearby Air Force Base (now known as a Space Base) shoots off rockets in the middle of the night. So at midnight I was awakened by a sound like a sonic boom and then the shaking of the windows and the shaking of the house that lasted for who knows how long but felt like at least a minute. I had no idea what was going on: earthquake? Bomb? War?

Eventually, the world quieted, my adrenaline surge subsided, and I went back to sleep. We learned in the morning that Space X had fired off a rocket. The next day, our host said, “Oh yeah. That happens sometimes. I was surprised that nobody came out to see what was going on!”

(I think the “House Rules” binder should include a section on “what to expect when the Space Base fires off a rocket. Don’t worry. It’s not Armageddon.)

I booked two nights at his place, but after a wonderful Saturday at UCSB’s preview day, we decided to head home. There probably wouldn’t have been another rocket launch to frighten me in the middle of the night (Somehow, Alexander didn’t wake up at all! He slept through the entire episode). But sometimes after a night of being in someone else’s house (especially someone with a binder full of rules), all you really want is to be back in your own. And you’ll decide to forfeit a night of your reservation and will happily drive more than 400 miles to sleep in your own bed and have your own bathroom again.