Airbnb Emergency Information Template for Guests

Emergency information is the section of a guest guide you build hoping nobody reads it — and build carefully because someone eventually will, at 2am, stressed, possibly in a country whose emergency number they don't know. It's also the section hosts most often skip ("nothing's ever happened") or bury in liability-speak that helps no one at the moment of need.

This template does it properly: the complete contents list, worded blocks ready to adapt, the formatting rules for stressed readers, and placement guidance so the section is findable in five seconds without darkening the guide's mood the other 99% of the time.

The design principle: write for the worst five minutes

Everything in this section is read under stress, which dictates the style: short lines, not paragraphs. Locations, not descriptions. Numbers big and labelled. The action first, the explanation optional. "Water everywhere → stopcock under the kitchen sink, turn clockwise (photo)" beats any elegant prose. Assume a reader who is frightened, foreign, and holding a phone at 4% — the same worst-case discipline as check-in instructions, with higher stakes.

The template

IF YOU NEED HELP

Emergency services (fire / police / ambulance): [911 / 999 / 112] (You're in [country] — this number works from any phone, free.) This address for the call: [full address, postcode] · [what3words if rural: ///word.word.word]

Urgent but not emergency:

• Us: [name] — [number] (any hour for genuine urgencies)
• Backup local contact: [name] — [number] (5 minutes away)
• Non-emergency medical line: [111 / local equivalent]
• Nearest A&E / urgent care: [name, address, 24hr?, X minutes by car]
• Late pharmacy: [name, hours, distance]
• Emergency plumber / electrician (if we're unreachable): [numbers]

IN THE PROPERTY

• Fire: get everyone out, then call [number] from outside. Extinguisher: [location]. Fire blanket: [location]. Meet point: [the gate / pavement opposite].
• Smoke alarm beeping (no fire): it's sensitive — ventilate and it resets. Constant chirping means battery: message us, don't climb.
• Water leak: stopcock is [location] — turn clockwise until it stops. [PHOTO] Then message us; you've already done the important part.
• Power cut: fuse box is [location] [PHOTO] — if one switch is down, flip it up. Whole street dark? It's the grid: torches are [location], and [supplier's outage line] has updates.
• Gas smell: don't flip switches. Open windows, get outside, call [gas emergency number]. Meter/shutoff: [location].
• No heating / hot water: honestly not an emergency at 2am — try [the quick fix], then message us and we'll sort it first thing (or same-night if it's genuinely cold).
• Locked out: [backup key arrangement / call us — we'd truly rather the midnight call].

GOOD TO KNOW First-aid kit: [location] · Torches: [location] · Nearest defibrillator: [location if known] · Local police non-emergency: [number]

Adapting the blocks

Fill every location with a photo where one helps (stopcock and fuse box especially — they hide), delete blocks that don't apply, and add your property's genuine risks: pool or hot water safety lines for pool properties, the storm protocol for exposed coasts, snow-and-power-cut notes for remote winters, balcony and window guidance for high floors with children. The test for additions is the same as everywhere: would the worst five minutes be better with this line? Local-context lines matter for international guests — the emergency number itself, whether pharmacies need prescriptions, that [country quirk] visitors wouldn't guess. This is also the section where translation earns its keep most: a guide that can put this page in a guest's own language (WelcomeFlo's Flo Translations covers 19) matters more here than anywhere else in the guide.

The tone line: calm, competent, never legalistic

Two failure registers to avoid. The liability crouch — sections written by fear of lawyers ("the owner accepts no responsibility…") help nobody at 2am and sour the guide's whole voice; put required legal text in the listing terms, and keep this section purely useful. The catastrophist — a page implying constant peril unsettles the 99% who never need it. The register that works is the competent friend: "here's the number, here's the tap, you've got this, and we're five minutes away." Notice the template even permits warmth ("we'd truly rather the midnight call") — calm and care are not opposites, and guests remember hosts whose emergency page felt like being looked after.

Placement: findable, not looming

The section lives in your guide's house/essentials area with one pointer from the front ("Emergencies: tap here — numbers and what-to-dos"). In a digital guide, search does the heavy lifting — "leak", "fire", "emergency" should all land here, which is the strongest argument for keeping the section's headings plain — and the always-in-pocket delivery means the information is present at the beach, in the car, wherever the moment happens. One print convention still earns its keep: a small card by the fridge with the emergency number, your number and the address — the Wi-Fi sign's sober sibling, for the guest whose phone is the problem.

Keeping it current (the section that must never lie)

Stale emergency information is worse than none — a wrong backup number or moved stopcock photo fails at the worst possible moment. Fold the section into your quarterly review with a specific twist: dial-test the numbers (yours, backup, tradespeople — people change providers), re-verify locations after any works, and update the same day anything changes, per the same-day rule. Digitally the edit reaches every guest instantly, including mid-stay; print cards get reprinted on the spot because this is the one document where "I'll get to it" is not a policy.

What this section quietly does for you

Beyond its primary job, the emergency section works three subtle shifts. It reduces panicked calls — most "emergencies" are the solvable kind (fuse, stopcock, alarm chirp), and guests with clear instructions self-resolve then message calmly. It frames you as professional — guests notice a property that has thought about the bad day; it reads as competence that colours the whole stay. And it protects the relationship when something real happens — a guest who found the torch, killed the water and reached you in ninety seconds experiences a handled crisis, and handled crises produce weirdly loyal guests. Preparation is hospitality wearing its serious clothes.

The five-minute setup checklist

Turning the template into your property's live section: 1) Fill the numbers block — and dial your backup contact now to confirm they're still willing (this call is the step everyone skips). 2) Walk the property photographing the four locations: stopcock, fuse box, extinguisher, gas shutoff. 3) Write the property-specific blocks, deleting what doesn't apply. 4) Paste into your guide's essentials area with the front-page pointer, and search-test "leak", "fire" and "emergency" on your phone. 5) Print the fridge card: emergency number, your number, the full address, nothing else. Twenty minutes total, once — then the quarterly dial-test keeps it honest. Few sections of a guide cost so little and matter so much on the one day they're opened.

The bottom line

One page, big labelled numbers, locations with photos, actions before explanations, a calm voice throughout — dial-tested quarterly and edited the day anything changes. Build it into your free guide this week, print the fridge card, and then enjoy the best outcome available: years of nobody ever needing it.

(One more line worth adding for international properties: the local word for "help" and how addresses are read aloud here — the details a frightened visitor cannot google mid-call.)