My Shared Experience

“How do I start the fire pit?” I texted my bed and breakfast host. “I don’t see any wood.”

“You can’t,” she texted back. “We are not allowed by Napa Fire Marshall to light logs at present.”

Of course, I should have known fire wouldn’t be allowed. After all, it was fire season, in dry California, and the risks were great. With thousands of acres of vineyards, and family homes, one stray spark could destroy an entire community.

And yet, I couldn’t help but feel disappointed. I was looking forward to hanging out by the fire. To drinking wine and sharing stories with complete strangers. Hopefully make some new, albeit temporary, friends.

That is the beauty of bed and breakfasts. You trade generous space and lavish amenities for a quiet, quaint experience. You hope to meet other travelers in the foyer and strike casual conversations. If you’re lucky, you connect with others in a deeper way and share life stories before heading out to your next adventure.

My husband was away for work, and I decided to take a solo trip. I found a Bed and Breakfast with a room that had a claw foot tub and bedside fireplace. It featured a spacious lounge and outdoor firepits to relax by in the evenings. I was sold.

After traveling for a few hours, and exploring the shops of downtown Napa, I bought a few bottles of wine to take back to my B&B to enjoy by the fire.

The evening sky was clear, not a cloud in sight. I was surprised to arrive at the patio and find it empty. No problem I thought. It’s early still, surely other people will join. So, I set my bottle down and searched for wood. After a futile search, I texted my host. Of course, there would be no fire. No shared stores. No new connections to be made.

I retreated to my room. To drink alone. While soaking in my claw foot tub.

I couldn’t help but to feel cheated somehow. Not by the lack of fire. But by a lack of human connection. I sat on my bed, pondering my self-isolation when I looked up and saw the notebook.

Now if you’ve ever stayed at a B&B, you know that each room has a notebook where guests can write down their highlights and gratitude of their stay. I had nothing better to do. So, I started thumbing through the journal entries.

I read about Crytal and Gary form Massachusetts who loved visiting the Chandon and Opus wineries. A couple, from Dallas, Texas, promised to return on their next trip. Frances and Carlos from Miami, Florida celebrated their 10-year wedding anniversary.

I read entries from people who lived as far away as Denmark and as close as Berkeley. I read excitement. Happiness. The good times. The times before Covid. And the times after.

What I found through these small stories was what I was searching for all along. I found human connection. I found shared experiences with people I never met. People I would never know.

I laid on my bed and thought of all the people who stayed here before me. And the people who would stay long after I left. And suddenly, I didn’t feel so alone.

I picked up my pen and wrote an entry. I placed the notebook carefully back on its little shelf. I hope someone will read it someday. I hope they will be able to make some small connection with me.