"This isn't just a room, Artie," Gary whispered, leaning in so close Arthur could smell his peppermint gum. "It’s an heirloom. Your kids will thank you. Your grandkids will thank you. And for today only, we’re waiving the $5,000 ‘Founders Fee.’ You’re basically stealing from us!"

The resort was named "The Golden Palms," but it looked more like "The Rusty Shingles" as Arthur pulled his rental car into the gravel lot.

Arthur, blinded by the prospect of a $99-a-year getaway, signed the stack of papers. He left with a plastic keychain and a sense of triumph.

Arthur tried to go back to the Golden Palms that summer. He found his "Luxury Suite" was actually a studio overlooking a dumpster, and the "private beach" was a narrow strip of sand behind a highway.