The influx of out-of-control vacation rentals is affecting neighborhoods all through Hawaii, but the situation may be most untenable in residential condo and apartment buildings.

It’s one thing when random strangers are coming and going in the house across the street. It’s a more intense intrusion when those strangers are on the other side of your bedroom wall, carrying keys to the building security door, jamming the elevator with their suitcases when you’re trying to get to work. What is happening to quiet neighborhoods with single-family homes is happening to condo buildings and apartments, too. Short-term rentals are changing how residents live.

“We’re a community,” said Denise Boisvert- Jorgensen. “We know our neighbors. We see the same people, we watch children grow up.”

Boisvert-Jorgensen lives in the Governor Cleghorn building in what is called the Waikiki Apartment Precinct, a part of the Waikiki Improvement District between Kuhio Avenue and the Ala Wai. It’s the area known as “The Jungle” before redevelopment began replacing small homes with high-rises in the 1970s.

“There are second- and third-generation beachboys in my neighborhood and families with kids who go to Jefferson Elementary or ‘Iolani, UH students who want to be in the big city but still near the surf,” she said. To the rest of Hawaii, Waikiki might seem a no- locals-land that was long ago ceded to tourism, but for tens of thousands of Oahu residents, many of them long-term renters, Waikiki is home. There are some “condotels” in the district and some legal short-term rentals, but there are of thousands of illegal vacation rentals that make big money for owners and big headaches for neighbors.

The Waikiki Lanais, a 160-unit building on Tusitala Street, has drawn the most attention to the conflict between people who live there and owners who run vacation rentals in their units.

Residents point to big tour vans that block the entrance to their parking lot when dropping off vacationers from day trips. They have taken photos of outside cleaning companies using all the washers and dryers in the building’s laundry room to get sheets and towels ready for the next guests. Outside the front door of the building is a rack with row after row of hanging lock boxes containing fobs to the building, vulnerable to theft.

Resident Mara Miller has had to deal with noise and partying and trash dumped right outside her apartment door. “They don’t feel responsible,” Miller said.

“My parking space is between a wall and a stall that is used by vacation renters,” resident Patti Nakatani said. “The side that is next to the vacation renter stall is all nicked up. The other side of my car is like nothing.” Nakatani has lived in the building for 25 years. She says it all changed in the last two years. Vacationers treat the residential building with the anonymous impunity of a hotel.

Some tourists like vacation rentals because they can be a more affordable way to visit Hawaii, especially if 10 friends are splitting the rent on a two-bedroom apartment. Travelers also say they like to get away from the hotel scene, live like a local and feel at home. What has happened is that people’s homes now feel like hotels.

Waikiki Lanais is tucked in an odd back road. The building has no front lobby or fancy entry to speak of, but the rooftop is a sweet little hideaway with a wet bar, a gas barbecue, tasteful patio furniture and a gasp-worthy view of Waikiki and Diamond Head. It was recently remodeled, paid for by owners’ condo fees. It used to be the place where neighbors would watch the Friday night Hilton fireworks together. There were community New Year’s Eve parties up there and Christmas potlucks with families in the building. Not anymore.

“I go up to the roof now and I honestly don’t know a soul there,” longtime resident Jayson Lum said. “It’s like living in a hotel.”