We all go a long way to have a slice of paradise. We go even further to leave it to our family when we pass. Into my office people come with revocable living trusts which are supposed to pass the timeshare at death. Mostly a step has been missed somewhere, and instead the asset is thus subject to an ancillary probate in far off Florida or Hawaii. Sometimes the owner of this rented happiness is still alive when they see me, and we can make a fix.
I have come to see the vendors of these places understand the need we all have to at least believe there is a simpler, slower time for all of us, if we could just find it. These vendors of happiness are waiting for us.
These properties all have names that evoke some kind of earth bound heaven; Island One, Palm something or other, Fairview, Fairshare, Fairwinds, Fair(insert adjective, verb or noun ) its all very fair. Can’t you see that for only about the price of a new car you can have happiness even of it is for just a few days a year? Like autos, the value drops precipitously when you drive it off the lot.
Often the names recall a golden age of sail or perhaps the perceived simpler life of the Caribbean. It is a chance to be your own Jimmy Buffett, and check out of our tragically bourgeois existence. Or perhaps we feel an exclusiveness because the timeshare anchor we bought into features the word “club” e.g. Wyndamn Club, Ocean Club, Bay Club, Penthouse at the Club, et. sequitor.
What people believe it seems, when they sign the papers for a tiny bit of dirt on a beach for a short period each year, is that this will be the answer, the escape from the dreary life we have here in the rain. I wonder if they are right, but I doubt it. Sometimes they come to see me to try to get out of the contract. Sometimes the heaven they bought is just hell on earth. Wouldnt a really expensive hotel room every so often been a better deal?
I will stick with the six Jimmy Buffett CD’s in my car’s stereo. Someone has to remain behind to mind the store, weighing in on nice ideas gone bad.