My own personal nightmare
Though it was certainly not as horrific as most of the nightmares on this list (and it includes zero feces), my own personal Airbnb disaster happened about a year ago in a little town in the middle of nowhere called "Chicago."
At 3am my girlfriend and I woke up to a pounding on our door, with no less than two dozen firemen standing in the door frame. Every man's (and my girlfriend's) fantasy, right? Nah. Apparently, gas leaks are horrifyingly unsafe, and the barbershop beneath us was spewing more hot gas than your Facebook friends on Election Day.
We had to leave and find a hotel room, but at least we got to see three firemen sawing down a metal door lock at 4am, so I have that going for me. And I can rest easy knowing that absolutely no "Big Beautiful Women" orgies or poop-covered couches were involved. I consider myself extremely lucky.