Day 2 – Monday

Total cost: $111.39
I walked across the parking lot to the presentation area for my 9 am appointment. I’d heard about the “vacation ownership” (aka timeshare) industry, and its promotional offers to get potential customers in the door. Once you’re there, they dazzle you with enticing financials, and create a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for vacation freedom. It’s actually sort of brilliant; one sale at these presentations is a massive return on investment.

Myself and about a dozen other parties checked in with a front desk attendant, who ran through a series of “pre-qualifying” questions. In order to be eligible for this offer, you must have an income over a certain amount, have no record of bankruptcy, be over 25 years old, etc. You must also attend with your spouse (if applicable), and can absolutely not be under the influence of alcohol or drugs.

Every other party was a couple in their 40s or older, with most being retirees. I think that’s why they paired me with the only 20-something on staff. We spoke for about an hour about my travel habits and spending while the rep put numbers into his iPad. He then walked me through a room dedicated to the history of vacation ownership, the destinations that I could access, the memories I’d create, the money I’d save, etc. etc. We watched a video detailing the same, and toured a suite with oceanfront views that could be mine! This suite was very different from the one I was staying in, with fake crab claws and shrimp cocktail on the granite countertops, and absolutely no musk.

Finally, we reached the end of the tour and the rep showed me his iPad. For something in the realm of $8,000 down, and then a monthly payment of $400 or so for the next decade, I could have unlimited access to travel for the rest of my life. Not only could I have my own unit at a premiere destination, but I could travel to any partnering resorts around the world. It worked out to be around $40,000 all in for this opportunity. I politely tried to turn this down, but the staff persisted. A manager came over and wrote out the economics of different offers. After three or four counteroffers, they finally took no for an answer, and sent me to the rewards center. I ended up opting to receive $179 in cash and 20,000 rewards points that I could put toward a future stay at any of the hotel group’s locations. Freedom.

While the nearest restaurant was three miles away, the hotel did have a small cafe. I spent $16 of my new cash on a sad-looking salad in a cardboard container and killed some time on the beach before my work call. The water was almost tea-colored brown, I was told due to excessive rains forcing soil and sediment into the Gulf from the Mississippi River.

I killed some more time on the hotel’s mini golf course, which sparked an interest in hitting some real golf balls. I found a driving range bar via the online magazine Galveston Island Guide that was only 12 miles away. I wanted a beer besides a Texas Bud Light, so I decided to parlay the range with a brewery and a bite, and grabbed a $16.92 Uber to Galveston Island Brewing.

The driver had lived on the island her whole life, and explained the severe impact hurricanes have had over its history. The Galveston hurricane of 1900 completely decimated the bustling island economy and remains the deadliest natural disaster in US history. This great storm inspired the construction of the 10-mile long seawall that now protects the island.

After a $7 IPA at the brewery, I walked along the seawall until I reached the Galveston fishing pier where a few anglers were using shrimp and crab to try and pull sheepshead or bull reds off the bottom of the gulf. There were rods available for rent, but I decided to eat fish someone else had caught at Jimmy’s, a restaurant on top of the pier.

Jimmy’s had a beautiful view of the gulf and downtown Galveston, but an even more beautiful happy hour. I feasted on a tuna tostada with thick pieces of ahi, 10 bacon and jalapeno stuffed shrimp, and a local IPA for a total of $30 with tip.

I crossed Seawall Boulevard toward the Galveston airport to Tin Cup’s Caddyshack. It’s a small, nondescript building with a large patio area, and bags of very used golf clubs. I spent $10 for a large bucket of balls, $7 for a beer, and spent an hour swinging out of my shoes.

The woman next to me was also a native islander. She recommended a few places to check out during my stay, but said her favorite activity was to sit on the porch and watch lightning storms miles out over the bay. This was the first vacation where I’d wished the forecast called for rain.

Lyft proved a cheaper option than Uber so I spent another $17.47 to head back down the island.