I drove six hours to check into my new luxury resort, only for the front desk clerk to toss a keycard at my feet.

controlled. No reception. No executives. Just the bed in the Presidential Suite.

I turned off the main highway, easing onto the discreet, unmarked private road leading to the resort. The asphalt was flawless, cutting through a canopy of carefully maintained Monterey pines.

When I pulled into the circular driveway at the entrance, the architecture took continue reading …