A few months before my dad died, he called me to his room and asked me to open a drawer. Inside, I pulled out a folder so big that I needed two hands to hold it: our family’s Florida timeshare contract. He wanted me to get rid of it – but I couldn’t manage to do it. Five years later, I got out of the timeshare and wrote about the experience for The Washington Post.
Published by joelbalsam
Freelance journalist, Lonely Planet travel writer and nomad. Stories for Time, National Geographic Travel, the Guardian, Travel + Leisure, American Airlines, ESPN and Vice. View all posts by joelbalsam
Joel Balsam 
I love this article about TIme shares –I wish my late brother had seen it about 12 years ago, I think the pressures of the continually rising maintenance fees lead him to a fatal heart attack –I went to one at wyndham, and the one hour turned into a four-hour game of good cop/bad cop –It only ended because I accused them of serving tainted food at the free breakfast and I needed to go to a hospital. My late brother did not have the guts to act like a jerk to get out of the high pressure sales talk