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During a family vacation at an all-inclusive resort in Cozumel in 2000, I jumped at the offer for a 24-hour free car rental. All we had to do was listen to a 1-hour pitch for a timeshare condo. It seemed like a great deal at the time. What could go wrong?

Growing up, our family never went south for spring break. Instead, we’d go up north or out west to enjoy the last days of spring skiing. And I had proudly maintained that tradition with our own kids, until 2000. I was out-voted 5-to-1.

We found a good deal for an all-inclusive resort in Cozumel, Mexico. So off Kate and I went with our four kids—Jake (age 16), Ric (age 15), Katie (age 12), and Beth (age 9).

The resort (details here) was a few miles north of the largest city on the island, San Miguel. The city was crowded and bustling with tourists coming off large cruise ships during the day to buy local fare, then return at night to the safety and security of their ship.

But we didn’t need to worry about that, because everything we needed was at the resort, including free food and drink, swimming pools and a beach, and an amazing view of deep blue waters of the Gulf of Mexico.

We settled into our daily routine quickly, relaxing under umbrellas or snorkeling in the pools or ocean. Each day, the breakfast hours blended with lunchtime and then dinner. My mom used to say, “So this is how the other half lives!”

But after a few days of relaxation and complete calm, I became curious about what the rest of the island was like, outside of the walls of the resort.

As luck would have it, I saw a woman sitting behind a table in the lobby with a sign that said, “Free Rental Car.” I asked her how this worked, and she said that it was indeed free, and that all we had to do was to listen to a 1-hour presentation about buying a timeshare condo. After listening to the presentation, the rental car would be there, and we’d be able to explore the island at our leisure. So, I signed up.

The next day arrived, and we were a bit nervous about leaving the serenity and security of our resort and venturing out into the real world. The van picked us up, and after a short drive we arrived at a 4-story, newly constructed building just south of the city.

We gathered in lobby, where there were several other couples. After filling out some paperwork related to the car rental, our host said that he’d lead us on the tour of the building, where we could see the condos, and hear about the timeshare deal.

Our kids were getting antsy, so one of the hosts offered to watch them in the lobby for the hour that Kate and I took the tour. We looked at each other and nodded in agreement about our plan—listen to their pitch, then leave in our free rental car.

The hour went quickly, and we were back at the lobby, ready to go. Not so fast, however, as our host asked Kate and me to join him in his office. As we entered a dimly lit room, we saw a desk with two empty chairs. We noticed a large man was standing in the corner of the room, with arms crossed and a deep frown.  

We were told to have a seat, and the host asked us if we were ready to commit to buying into the timeshare. Kate and I looked at each other and I responded, “These are really nice condos, but we’re not ready to buy at this time.”

The host’s smile turned to a frown, and he asked firmly, “What do you mean?”

I repeated, “We enjoyed the tour, but we’re not ready to buy at this time.”

And then he said, “You accepted our tour, so it’s now time to agree to buy a timeshare condo.”

Just then the large man came out of the shadows and took a few steps toward us. As our host was becoming even more agitated, I felt my pulse begin to race and I broke out in a cold sweat. Fight or flight!

I grabbed Kate’s arm and said, “We’re leaving now.”

As we walked toward the door, I suddenly realized that we hadn’t seen our kids for over an hour. Were they being held hostage, until we agreed to buy into the timeshare?

We rushed out of the room and were relieved to see our kids huddled together in the corner of the lobby. We grabbed each of them by the arm and ran out into the bright sunlight.

Fearing that we’d have to run for our lives, we were surprised to see that the rental car was there, with another man holding the keys in his hand.

I grabbed the keys while Kate herded the kids into the car. We sped off down the road, not sure where to go, but just wanting to get far away from these people and that place.

We spent the rest of that day driving our “free” rental car around the island, exploring the back alleys in the city and the southern and eastern beaches. It was a great day, and we soon forgot about the unpleasant experience at the timeshare condo.

But ever since that day, whenever I am tempted by an offer for a free airplane ticket, car rental, or a hotel stay, my pulse races and I break into a cold sweat. I’m just another survivor of a timeshare condo sales pitch, living with PTSD.