Orbitz and the Iceberg Schemes
What’s an “Iceberg Scheme”? Well, I was just thinking about a metaphor to visualize what happened to me over these past few days. The first thing that comes to mind is a pyramid scheme. Many levels, all very sketchy. My story involves different aspects you can’t see at first and just don’t expect, thus an iceberg scheme instead. Property managers, building owners, apartment owners, maybe parking lot staff, maybe spies. God knows who else. You think you’re just dealing with somebody renting out their apartment, typical AirBnB style, but that’s just the tip of the iceberg.
I work for a big company. It’s probably pretty easy to find out which, but I won’t mention them here, because although they are the reason for my travel to a conference, they aren’t at fault and I don’t want to mention their name in association with whatever the hell this is.
In fact, I specifically had to go against my company’s travel policy to book my hotel stay given that hotels were so booked solid for this time frame. This has happened before — only certain hotels show up in the system, and if it prevents reasonable travel, you just book things yourself and be prepared for the automated message that this infracture will be flagged to the appropriate people in our system. The company will reimburse you anyhow.
Enter Orbitz. I’ve used Orbitz plenty of times…also Travelocity…also Expedia. It’s always been easy to find what you need. This time around, however, even Orbitz wasn’t giving me proper hotels available in the area. Or at least none that were below $400 per night (a very reasonable corporate travel limit).
But there was one, though. It was half a mile to the conference, which was great because I didn’t plan to have a car in downtown LA. It was listed through Orbitz as an AirBnB style rental. Though this company was called “HomeAway”, which I understand is also the same folks who own VRBO.
I’m not familiar with HomeAway/VRBO, but Orbitz has always been solid for me in the past, so I didn’t worry about it and booked it. It was still expensive at $284 a night, but the best of the available options. My coworkers have used AirBnB for business before, so this seemed like more of the same. Going to book it, though, all sorts of admin fees were added, making it closer to $400 per night. Still the best of the available options.
The pictures looked great. Definitely an apartment. In fact, it was 2 floors, 2 bedrooms, more than I needed. But I didn’t care. It was a place to stay. Maybe I’d help some unlucky soul at this conference with my massive living space if they fell on misfortune.

My thinking, of course, was “Here’s someone that bought a nice modern apartment in downtown LA and just wants to make some money renting it out at a super high rate.” No big deal, this is how AirBnB operates — its just how things work now if you want to make a buck. I scoped out Google Street View, and it definitely seemed legit, with a leasing office and Starbucks in the same building. So then I think to myself… “OK, this isn’t somebody who bought the property — it’s gotta be the building owner. They can’t rent this place for the exorbitant price they are after long term, so they are renting it short term. Makes sense to me.
Instructions after reserving over a month in advance were to wait for check-in instructions from the property manager, but check-in is at 4pm. Nothing ever came. A day or two prior to leaving on the trip, I typed a message into the HomeAway website asking if there were, in fact, check-in instructions. Nothing ever came. I was steeling myself for disappointment, but had no reason yet to think anything was wrong. It was binary in my mind. I have a place to stay or I don’t. I’ll get it sorted regardless. If they bail on me, I call Orbitz and they’ll make it right.
I showed up at 4pm that Sunday. There were a couple of folks working in the leasing office, but I figured in case the property owner wants to do this on the down-low, I’d give HomeAway customer support a call.
“I’m here”, I said, “And I don’t have check-in instructions”. The customer service rep put me on hold for….let’s say 10 minutes. He got back to me: “OK, I just spoke to the property manager, Lee. He’ll give you a call shortly.” I waited for another half hour or so on the sidewalk. Eventually, I chat up the property manager who is making his rounds greeting people he knows outside the leasing office. I tell him what I’m doing. And he says “Yeah, there’s nobody working here named Lee, but there’s a Lee that owns the unit down the street in the complex. Big black guy.” At this point I feel like I’m being vetted that I’m ok renting from someone who’s black. I don’t flinch. Weird thing to say, but if I flinch, which direction of okay am I indicating about his bigness and blackness? He goes on to say, “Yeah, we don’t allow rentals like AirBnB, but we let it slide. It’s a mutual understanding.”
As I allow another half hour to pass — just as a milestone to myself of when I should check in, I call HomeAway again. They put me on hold again and come back after 5 minutes saying they can’t get ahold of the property manager. “Please hold again”, they say. After another 5 minutes pass, I get a Virginia-based phone number ringing my cell.
“Hey this is JT,” or JD, I really don’t know which, “a friend of Lee’s. So, there is just a small plumbing problem with the unit caused by the last tenant, we’re fixing now. Please head on into the Starbucks, grab anything you want, and I’ll meet you in there and get you back.”
Little did I know, this is exactly how the Vice article started that my wife shared with me when I called her about this the next day.
Anyway, I go to the Starbucks and order my second (maybe third) cold brew of the day. It’s now 5 or 5:30? I give myself another milestone. I’m going to wait an hour and call JT(D) back.
Good opportunity to do some work, anyway. While I’m typing away on my laptop, the same leasing office worker I chatted up before saunters in. He says hi to a couple folks, sees me and says, “Hey there’s a couple of guys that look like they are waiting for you outside”. I say, “That’s probably not me — Lee’s friend is meeting me in the Starbucks”, and I get back to typing after thanking him.
It’s now 7 or 7:30. I’ve reached my artificial milestone with no contact. I call JT(D) back.
“Hey, I was just about to call you. So, the unit is XXXX, and there’s a lockbox outside with a code YYYYY”. Lots of numbers to remember, so I repeat them and get off the phone (a bit short with him because I was trying to remember the numbers, but also kept it polite).
I go to the unit, open the lockbox, nothing is inside. I close it up. I must’ve just missed the key, it’s gotta be hugging the side, I think. I open it like 3 more times because I’m tired and in disbelief.
Behind me, someone shouts out from a car window, car parked on the curb, “Hey! Are you trying to get into that apartment”. I say yes.
“So there’s been a bit of a problem”, he says. “See, we booked this unit on Homeaway and AirBnB. We JUST checked in the AirBnB guest. Sorry for the mixup. Here’s the thing though, we have a another unit we can get you in right now. I have to apologize, though. It’s not a 2 story 2 bedroom. It’s only a one bed, is that OK?”
I say yes, but I know at some point I asked who they are — I think it was right then. They tell me that they manage the property. “I’m Louie and this is my brother”. I can get in their car, and they’ll take me right there. I politely demand they show me on their phone a map of where the place is.
To me, at the moment, it looked equidistant from the conference. Just north instead of east. Maybe my mistake, maybe not — it was actually a mile away. Still easy walking distance for me. Slightly getting away from central downtown, yes, but not far enough away to be worried about a bad area, to my limited knowledge of LA, anyway.
I get in the car after I show them my reservation and confirm the price I paid. I also weigh actually getting in the car with them — but this was just hours after getting in a Lyft with someone else I don’t know to drive me from the airport. I reasoned it was similar, but I was going to be careful.
We drive a short distance to the new place. Driving into the garage, they greet all the parking lot attendants like old friends. They tell me that they need some time to clean up the place, they don’t want it dirty, after all. So we go up to the roof where I can hang out and wait. The roof is actually really nice — there’s a small gathering of folks having some appetizers, another lady is soaking in the rooftop hot tub, and they walk me around to point out the sauna and fitness center.
Despite the temporary assurance of them knowing the staff and the swanky roof, I’m still on edge and done with my artificial milestones, so I directly ask them, “How long will it be?”. Half an hour they say, tops. I tell them that I’ve been given the runaround all day, and it’s important to me that they stick to their word, despite them being friendly so far. They give a nod, understanding completely.
So, I pull up a chair, plug in my laptop and phone, and maybe work, maybe just mindlessly browse. Fifteen minutes in, I’m approached by a women. She starts chatting me up, “Are you new here?”. I tell her yes, but I confess this whole situation is sketchy. In the back of my mind, I’m wondering if she’s a plant. She tells me she’s from Saudi Arabia — I really can’t remember. Could it have been Lebanon? Maybe. Anyway, she’s heard of the conference I’m in town for, and her seat partner on her flight from South Africa was going to attend it as well. In fact, the South African was really excited.
She appears to be friendly, asking me a couple times if she’s interrupting my work, and I say no, it’s totally cool. She tells me that I should abandon what I’m doing with the rental and just visit the leasing office downstairs and redo the terms. She did that, and she got a totally better deal.
A few minutes later the “property managers” return. The woman that was chatting me up sees “Louie” and his brother and welcomes them warmly with hugs. They exchange rounds of “How have you been? It’s been awhile!”.
What was my theory about being in cahoots? Is this lady part of team Louie, sent to profile me and get info on how to further manipulate?
Either way, the apartment is ready and it’s already something like 8pm. We enter, they give me the key and show me around. There’s not much to show. It’s likely a long-term business rental. We’re on something like the 14th floor, great window view. The apartment is great, very clean, and there’s a kitchen with silverware and real plates. I guess it’s cool. All of my alarm bells quiet down a bit.
“Are you cool with this?”
I say sure, this is just fine.
“So here’s the deal, you can only stay here for the one night. We have someone else coming in tomorrow. But don’t worry, we have another room right in the same building.”
I tell them that it’s really not OK. I’m leaving early in the morning to attend this conference.
“Not to worry — just put the key in the mailbox outside the door, and leave your bags just inside the door. We’ll take them all to the new place”.
I stare at the floor, thinking about this new development and what to do. I finally choose honesty.
“Look, you seem like really nice guys — please don’t take offense, but I’ve been repeatedly given the runaround all day. I’m trying to protect myself here.”
“We totally understand. Look, it’s entirely possible that you can keep the place. We’ll text you if so. But also understand that if you don’t like it, there’s not much you can do. We can just leave you to fend for yourself.” They use a very polite tone, if that matters.
I agree, making a plan in my mind to make sure to only leave my bag of clothes in the room. I’m absolutely taking all my chargers, my laptop, everything I need. If my clothes disappear, it’s just a momentary setback and I can go shopping.
I lean further, though, on my honesty. “So look, I don’t know who you are, what type of business you run. Do you understand my position?”
“Louie” agrees — he proceeds to show me on his phone all of the listings he manages with his brother. He says business is good, they are just overbooked right now and really need to get more units. I notice on his profile page it says “Luis”. Was he saying “Luis” before, when I heard “Louie”?
They leave so I can finally get some peace. I start unpacking, but two minutes later there’s a knock at the door. It’s Luis/ouie. He slyly reaches out his palm and drops a fifty dollar bill into my hand. “Sorry for the inconvenience. Buy whatever you want.”
Once Luis/ouie and his brother, who actually never spoke a word to my recollection, were really, really gone, I unpacked a few more things, but not too much as I would obviously be leaving the next day. I reflected suspiciously on Luis/ouie and how close that name was to the original property manager, Lee.
With things calmed down, I thought about some hygiene supplies I’d need like toothpaste and deodorant that I figured I couldn’t get through airport security. I also thought about a Facebook weight-loss group I’ve been part of since mid-October. We’re watching our macros, and I’ve been consistently nailing my calorie count and protein goals since then.
Off to Ralph’s, the local LA grocery store. Toothpaste, deodorant, beef jerky, and greek yogurt. I went way overboard on the greek yogurt, buying like 12 of the little yogurt cups. After the grocery, I went to get some dinner. Sticking to my guns, I got late night, no frills sushi along with a draft Sapporo to take some of the edge off.
Back at the hotel, I logged into MyFitnessPal, turned on the TV to watch Bob’s Burgers, the Simpsons, and Futurama while I ate a couple of yogurts to fill out my protein goals. The apartment’s kitchen ended up better than a hotel once I was settled in. I appreciated the ice-cube and water dispenser built into the fridge along with some spoons in the silverware drawer and some nice pint glasses to use. It was better than my home kitchen.
Hitting the Iceberg
The next day I dutifully did as I was told. I left the key in the mailbox and my bag of clothes and a shopping bag full of yogurt and jerky right inside the door. Throughout the night I had trouble sleeping, often coming back to “What would happen if I just kept the key and the apartment and ghosted Leeuoies and his silent brother? What could he do? Then I remembered how tight they were with all the parking attendants. Leeouies has gotta have a plan B.
I woke up the next day, went to the conference, had a blast. I set another artificial milestone though. If I’m not contacted by 4pm, I’m reaching out. And indeed, at 4pm, I texted Leeouies.
“Hello yes”, he replied. “I will get info shortly. What time are you coming back?”
I told him I’d likely be back at 7, but my plans weren’t set. “I’d appreciate info when you have it and I’ll stop by if I need to.” I thanked him.
“Ok I’ll have info for you with in the next hr and a half.”
Spelling is getting slightly sloppy but we’re just texting. Fine.
“Your belongings are secure I assure you.”
Uh-oh, thanks for bringing that up. I was certainly thinking it, but that doesn’t make me feel any better (I didn’t say this).
Two hours later at 6pm:
“Ok so I wasn’t able to get you unit in the same building but I do have a spot for the remaining of your stay. The building is called XXXXX Address is YYYYYYY.”
I don’t know why I’m hiding the address as I write this. I’d later find out that the halls of their building are plastered with big red banners with a phone and email to contact if anyone is using AirBnB or VRBO. This behavior is not allowed.
Leeouies sends me a photo of the place. Seems as nice as the last. I look up the address. I’m being pushed two and a half miles away from the conference now, into Chinatown. I have no idea if this is good. What I do know is that this is likely going to keep happening no matter what Leeouies is promising me. I talked to some shocked co-workers about what’s been happening.
“GET OUT NOW”
I agree. It’s a conclusion I had already reached, but it certainly helped hearing it from someone else. Problem though, I need to find a place to stay. Another co-worker says he just got a hotel last minute, very close by. I call the hotel. Nothing available, of course. I need something like a travel agent. Orbitz got me into this situation, they’ll get me out. I call up a support agent. They’re just there to book me into a new place, but I very pointedly say that they got me into scam lodgings and they need to help me out.
They sympathize but are just there to book a new stay. Orbitz asks for criteria. I tell them that regardless of my criteria, they are going to have a hard time finding me something, so I offhandedly say maybe 2 or 3 star, up to $400, just to directly answer them so we can get on with this.
“Please hold”.
After a few minutes wait, they come back on the line and say they were having trouble finding anything, please hold again.
I do and after another few minutes, they are back.
“We’ve found one listing, the XXXXX Hotel”. They describe check-in time, etc. Nothing sounded too bad. I tell them to stay on the line, and I’ll quickly preview in my phone’s browser. I look it up, the room photo looks clean and what you’d expect from a hotel. I don’t have time to drill too deep though, I’m trying to get something quick as I’m standing on the sidewalk with cars buzzing past. The only problem is that it seems equally far from the conference, but at this point, I feel like I’m really out of options. I hesitantly say yes and just plan to take Lyft to and from the conference every day.
At something like $150 a night, I feel like I’m not throwing too much corporate money down the drain if this goes wrong. And hell, it’s a proper hotel, not another shady situation like what I just had. I tell the agent to go ahead and book the hotel, feeling a bit bad that I’m reading my credit card number on the street as I turn away from everyone.
With that, mission accomplished. I have somewhere to sleep now. One problem down. Next problem is that my clothes and yogurt are, for all I know, being held hostage.
Back to Leeouies.
I‘m about to text him back, but I think first. My legal intuition, which has no basis in fact or law whatsoever, is telling me to get my bags but do not commit to saying I accept this new place.
I text: “Hi where can I meet you to gather my things? I’m at XXXXXXX now.”
“Ok cool, I left your belonging in unit. I will give you self check instructions.”
Leeouies sends the instructions, but they basically involve trespassing into the building and tailgating someone up the elevator. No talk of keys.
I text back: “I don’t have a car, would you please bring my belongings to XXXX?”
“I left them in the unit. I’m currently not in town. I left your belongings in the new unit.”
Great, the dude bolted. Looks like I’m on my own. Whether I’m ghosted or not, I should at least attempt to get my bags. I tell him that I’ll get a cab.
So I call a Lyft to bring me to the new place, with no intention of staying, obviously. The Lyft arrives at my destination. This residential complex is massive. I can’t tell where it begins or ends. It sits on both sides of the street with a little walkway bridge spanning between.
My “self check-in instructions” were to go in the big lobby. I see something that looks like a lobby, but it’s seems smaller than I expected it would be. I try the door, and of course, it’s locked. I notice the hours of operation run until 7pm. It’s now 7:30.
I try the parking garage, sneaking in behind someone. Once I’m in, I wander around a bit, looking for an entrance to the lobby. Some teenage girls are walking out, and I stop them, blabbering something about getting into the lobby.
Realizing I’m probably coming off like a dangerous lunatic, I tell them: “You know what, there’s no reason you should trust me at all, do you all know if there’s a security guard around I can talk to?” They say no and wander away.
Eventually I find my way to an elevator, and I am able to tailgate someone up to the 6th floor. My next problem is that the apartment number I have is in the thousands, but the numbers on these apartments are in the hundreds. I text Leeouies.
“It’s the unit with the Xmas Reid”
“Christmas wreath on the door”
I explain that I’ve circled the place, and the numbers don’t match and there’s no Xmas wreath.
He repeats the address, and tells me “XXXXX main enterance. It’s the turn about. Fountain in the center.”
As I read this, I’m hearing a fountain over the open-air railings of the apartment complex hallways. Leaning over, I see a small fountain. Explaining that I do see a fountain, and the numbers don’t match, he texts me back:
“Face time me”
“6070 bro I’m sorry”
That’s where the texting ends. I’m not on iOS, so I just call him. He then tries to get my WhatsApp info. Thinking I’m here for a conference, not foreign diplomacy at the service of the president, I tell him I don’t have that either. Eventually I get the idea I’m just in the wrong building.
Regrouping outside I pace the street. Entering the exact address in Google Maps, I put my dot exactly over the location. But I’m still at the same lobby. Given that it’s dark, I try to read the very subtle address numbers. I’m in the 800s….and on the wrong street. It turns out that there’s a small private road to the side that leads to the main entrance.

The lobby is indeed open, but I do still need to find someone to tailgate up the elevator. I have no business being a creepy stalker, I’m just not cut out for it. There’s only one girl there, likely in her mid 20s, that I feel like I’m very obviously eyeballing and kind of just….circling the lobby…waiting for her.
Thank god Running Girl came by. She was totally oblivious in her headphones, and I follow her into the elevator.
“What floor?” she helpfully asks. I tell her 6 and I’m in.
The apartments are numbered in the thousands. I’m golden, but I still don’t have a key. What do I assume? Just bust open a door, I guess. Finding the original apartment number, I open the door a crack without knocking. A resident is right on the other side, peering at me suspiciously as I’m breaking into his apartment. Oh damn, I think, the other text.
“6070 bro I’m sorry”
Profusely apologizing, he lets me on my way. It probably doesn’t hurt that I’m still wearing my conference nametag. What thief would actually wear a “Hello My Name Is” sticker?
Approaching 6070, I see the Christmas Wreath. I suck in my breath and open the door. The place is empty of people, and more importantly, I’ve been reunited with my clothes and yogurt. The place doesn’t look as nice as the photo Leeouise texted me earlier, but it’s also not shabby. It could be just the dim lighting that’s creeping me out. The TV is also blaring for some reason.
Ideally, I would have just grabbed my bags and gotten the hell out, but curiosity got the best of me. I looked all over for any written instructions, a key to the place, anything for my “self check-in”.
Nothing.
Laughing to myself, I thank past me for realizing it was time to escape. If I had continued with this insane plan, I would have a place to sleep, which apparently just opens up to anyone. Or could lock behind me, I’m not sure which. Anytime I’d have to get back in at the end of the day, I’d have to turn into obvious creepy stalker man and follow young women into the elevator.
Now is when I get the hell out. I call for a Lyft. Moments later it arrives, but they are parked at the same wrong address I was let off at. I immediately call the driver and explain the layout as if I was the resident groundskeeper.
As we’re driving to my real, and totally not make-believe new hotel, I get a call from Leeouis.
“Hey bro, did you find the place?”
“I did. I’m not staying there, I’m done with this. Thanks”.
Oh god, why did I thank him? He’s that waiter that told me to enjoy my meal and I said, “you too”. Just. so. cringeworthy.
Right after that, an email from Orbitz. Check-in instructions.
“Please call Miss Candy for check-in 1(xxx)xxx-xxxx” (yes, Miss Candy).
Fine, I’ve stayed in seedy hotel/motels sparingly where the manager isn’t actually there. But at least it’s a place to stay, all my own. I probably shouldn’t expect any different. I call Miss Candy. She answers, “Hello?” I guess I shouldn’t be surprised at this point that I’m just calling someone’s random cellphone rather than an actual business. I tell her that I’m checking in, and give her my name. She says, “I’ll text you the instructions”, and hangs up.
As the instructions arrive, I sigh gratefully that there are actually lock codes. But it goes on. There are rules. Parking rules. OK, fine. Wifi and check-in, check-out times. Great.
“6. Using washer & dryer during 10pm-8am is NOT ALLOWED coz the noise.”
What. I mean, cool. I’m not going to complain there’s a washer and dryer, but I’ve never had a hotel room with one before.
“8. NO SMOKING/NO ALCOHOL/NO PARTY IN THE HOUSE & ROOM”
I wasn’t planning on drinking, I’m watching what I eat. Booze tips my MyFitnessPal numbers a bit too much….but what? What kind of hotel bans alcohol? And what happened to make this a problem to be immortalized in the rules?
As the Lyft pulls into the location with no hotel in sight, I start looking for the address. It’s a dilapidated apartment. Pink stickies with instructions dot the entire front entrance, marking room numbers and letters. I enter the code to get into the first entrance. It’s an apartment. While it’s dark and hard to state for certain, it doesn’t look very kept or clean. The pink stickies pointing out more helpful tidbits line the walls. They probably don’t help the overall vibe.
Each of the 4 or 5 rooms have a lock code on their private bedroom doors. I enter mine. The room looks like I might have expected from a cheap motel bedroom. Not awesome, and not at all like the photo.

I mean for one, I had two beds. But that’s a plus, right? Either way, imagine something like the above, but more your cheap-o off-campus college apartment.
Sorry, Miss Candy, I’ve been burned too much over the past two days. I’m not trying to talk down your pad. I think it’s all Orbitz’s messaging calling it a hotel. And I can’t blame you for dressing it up a little bit for the camera. I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt that you didn’t doctor the photos and you just used a sample room for all of them. But after giving too much benefit of doubt to Leeouise, I’m done. I gave you one chance for me to not totally feel defeated, and you’ve blown through like five. Maybe it’s me. Maybe it’s you. I don’t want to share a bathroom with 4 or 5 people…10 if we’re talking couples. I’m now looking for an eject button.
“You’re welcome to stay at my place, but it’s probably too far,” I remember my sister-in-law saying a month ago. There it is. I need to regroup and regain my sanity, if even for a night. I called her up asking for a big favor. Her and her boyfriend give me whiskey (do you hear that Miss Candy?) and their leftover dinner. They let me in on a fun fact that Southwest lets you change your flight by just charging the difference. I book a flight back home for the next afternoon. It no longer matters that the conference will go on without me.
My sister-in-law and boyfriend are watching their protein, too. So I leave them my yogurt as a thanks when they take me to the airport in the morning.
Update
It’s now Thursday, and I just called Orbitz and explained that I thought a refund was in order for both reservations as well as some kind of assurance that this wouldn’t happen to anyone else. I got none of that. Instead, I was given the phone number to call customer support at HomeAway as they are the “property managers”.
After hanging up, I called HomeAway explaining what happened again. They were sympathetic (as was Orbitz I should say), but it was above this customer service representatives pay-grade. He very nicely took notes, and promised that a “Trust and Security” representative would be contacting me shortly.