You look out the plane’s window. You see sunny lush green St. Augustine, Florida, below. You de-plane, retrieve your suitcase, sign the rental contract, and ask the agent for help finding the Fountain of Youth.
He looks at you wide-eyed. “Lady, it’s a myth. It doesn’t exist.”
“But I read it in this Florida brochure. Here. See.”
“You didn’t read the fine print.”
“Can’t believe I’ve been duped.”
It’s so disappointing! What to do now? Flee to the beach. Here you’re floating on your back in the billowy blue waters of the Atlantic Ocean. No chance for restoring your youth here.