Evicted in New Haven

I'm remembering this time several years ago when a friend and I were staying in New Haven for a training. A friend of a friend offered his place to us. He was a super nice MFA student who wasn't home much and had these big couches that we could sleep on. After our first night, we headed to the training for the morning and then came back to his apartment to make lunch—noodles and kimchi I think it was. We cleaned up and returned to the training. That afternoon, our host left a message on my voicemail, a really angry message accusing us of making a mess in his kitchen, and saying that we can no longer stay there. When we went back to the apartment to get our stuff, I saw what I hadn't seen before: that some bits o shredded carrot were around the stove, and that's what he was so mad about.

I can understand this. I've let people that I didn't really know stay in my house, and sometimes it was great, sometimes it wasn't. I think if this friend of a friend had known me previously that the situation would've been okay, but there's another factor at play here that makes me wonder: What if he'd just met me but I'd explained to him that I can't see so well? Would he have forgiven me for the mess that I left? Or would he have reacted the same way? In which versions of the story does discrimination happen? Or entitlement? And did I, in fact, tell him that I'm visually impaired? Did our mutual friend? This was several years ago, so I can't recall. 

In the end we crashed with these young punk rockers, five of them who lived in a three-bedroom apartment. We slept on their back porch and they helped me fix my bike. We did lots of cooking and cleaning there, and when we left, the place was tidier than it had been before we arrived.