Loyal readers of this blog will remember a distraught post from a little over a year ago, when my altered mind-state, brought about by being by myself all day with nothing to do in a suburban studio apartment without any furniture, led me to agree to attend a time-share sales presentation, with the idea that this would be a good way to get a free trip to Las Vegas. Loyal readers will remember that Andrew and I were effectively held hostage for several hours, in what was easily one of the most harrowing and horrible experiences I’ve ever willingly put myself into. We escaped without buying a time share with a “fantastic” 18% interest rate on the offered mortgage. We did, indeed, receive a certificate for a free trip to Las Vegas.
With the voucher’s expiration date rapidly approaching, we have decided to forgo the trip. Not surprisingly, the departure times are difficult, the hotel is sub-par, and the required taxes all add up to something that is a total waste of time. Part of me was determined to use the trip just to spite Wyndham and to somehow redeem that whole awful experience, but the larger part of me is so disgusted by anything having to do with the company and their penchant for exploiting people who clearly do not have the means to pay for what they’ve agreed to purchase that I can’t imagine willingly entering into any arrangement with them ever, ever again.
And so—the end. Stupid mistake, horrible experience, a suburban nightmare brought to life and now, finally, put to rest. The scars from all of it are still evident (“NO!!” we both practically shouted this Sunday at a baseball game, when someone asked us if we’d like to enter a contest for something or other). And somehow I can’t think about our early times here in CA, or that hideous, soulless city of Citrus Heights, without it all coming rushing back.