somewhere in France, at 2 AM... 🫠

Hey, ! You wanted this one, and honestly… I don’t know if you’re ready. But here we go.

If you had asked me before this trip, "Hey, do you think you’ll end up semi-homeless, sneaking into a hotel with two strangers, illegally pouring yourself a beer at 2 AM, and sleeping on a lobby floor before being saved by the kindness of a French housekeeper?"

I would have laughed and said:

“…I mean, probably not?”

And yet.

Spring Break, 2010. Danny (my now-husband) and I were in Greece, studying abroad, living off cheap gyros, and—despite having no money to our names—fully convinced that we could pull off a trip to Paris.

I don’t mean “cutting back on lattes” broke.
This was “bank account in the negatives” broke. 🫠

We had zero business even thinking about this trip.
None.
And yet, we refused to let “being broke” stand between us and our Parisian dreams.

Because when you want something bad enough, you don’t just figure it out—you make it happen. No matter how ridiculous the plan.

So, we got scrappy.

We scoured the internet for the cheapest possible flight—which, in classic budget-travel fashion, did not land in Paris.

No, no. That would have been too easy.

Instead, it landed somewhere outside of Paris, in an airport that I’m 85% sure was just an empty field with a runway.

Thank you, Ryanair. You always delivered.

But we had a plan:

✔ Land in this totally legitimate far-away airport.
✔ Take a cheap late-night bus straight to Paris.
✔ Wake up in the most romantic city in the world, croissant in hand. 🥐

Easy. Simple.

A flawless strategy.

(Narrator: It was not flawless.)

First, our flight was delayed.

Okay. Not great, but not terrible.

Then, by the time we actually landed, it was past midnight—

…which meant the last bus to Paris was long gone.

Still, we stayed calm. No big deal. We’d camp out at the airport for a few hours and catch the first bus at 5 AM.

We found a little corner, dropped our backpacks, and started getting cozy.

And then—plot twist—around 1 AM, security rolled up.

“The airport is closing,” they announced.

Wait. What?

THE AIRPORT IS CLOSING?!

Like… shutting down? Lights off, doors locked, every single person OUT?

I blinked at them, waiting for the punchline.

Airports don’t just… close. Right?

Is this normal?
Is this a French thing?
HOW?!?!

I had so many questions, but security had zero interest in answering them. They were already ushering us toward the exit.

And then, as we stood outside, the real problem hit us.

❌ No taxis.
❌ No buses.
❌ Uber? Nonexistent. (Probably still just a guy named Travis sketching ideas on a napkin in a Palo Alto coffee shop.)

The nearest hotel?

THIRTY. MINUTES. AWAY.

This was the moment reality slapped us in the face.

At this point, our options were grim.

❌ Find a bench and come to terms with the fact that this is our bed now.
❌ Magically manifest a way to Paris before sunrise.
✔ Hope for divine intervention.

And divine intervention arrived.

In the form of two French security guards who, upon seeing our sad, shivering faces, took pity on us.

They scanned us up and down—two broke college students and two chain-smoking equally broke Romanians, all standing in the cold with our backpacks like lost puppies at a shelter—and, after a moment of hesitation, one of them sighed.

"Okay. We take you."

And that, , is how I found myself in the back of an unmarked van, driving through the actual French countryside at 2 AM with two complete strangers.

Did we know where we were going? Nope.
Did we stop to process how sketchy this was? Also nope.
Did we all silently agree that if this was how we died, at least it would be an interesting way to go? Absolutely.

After what felt like an eternity of questionable decision-making, they finally dropped us off at the hotel in the middle of nowhere.

Finally. A place to sleep.

Except.

They dropped us off…
And then drove away…
And only then did we realize:

The hotel was closed.

Cue my soul physically leaving my body.

WHAT KIND OF A HOTEL JUST… CLOSES?!

Lights off. Doors locked. Not a single soul in sight.

I stood there, frozen, staring at the locked doors like they had personally offended me.

Danny let out a breath, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Okay. So… this is bad.”

The Romanians looked at us. We looked at them.

And just like that, the reality settled in:
We were officially homeless. In France. At 2 AM.

At first, we tried to stay positive.

Maybe someone would show up. Maybe the hotel was just on some weird European schedule where it temporarily closed and then reopened at some ungodly hour.

We sat by the entrance, waiting for a miracle.

And with nothing else to do, we started talking.

The Romanians swapped travel stories. Danny talked about Greece. I mostly just sat there, cold, nodding along, and wondering how my life had come to this.

(One of them had half a baguette in his backpack. I respected that.)

And then—just as I was settling into acceptance—

I got a Facebook notification.

I glanced down at my phone.

"Stranded in the middle of nowhere outside a closed hotel. Just waiting for our bus to Paris. LOL."

I turned so fast I nearly gave myself whiplash.

“DANNY! ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! DELETE IT! RIGHT NOW!!”

He stared at me, completely unbothered. 

“Why? Babe. It’s funny. Relax.”

“BECAUSE MY SISTER WILL SEE IT AND LOSE HER MIND, THAT’S WHY.”

I could already picture it: my phone vibrating violently as my sister’s name flashed across the screen, followed by her inevitable scream—

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU’RE STRANDED?! WTF WERE YOU THINKING?!!!!”

Oh, you know. Just making excellent life choices, as always.

I inhaled, braced for impact, and made peace with the fact that this might be the moment my sister finally disowns me.

We needed a plan. Fast.

We had three options:
❌ Cry.
❌ Surrender to the void.
✅ Get creative.

So we did what any resourceful, broke college students would do:

We broke in.

Not in a commit-a-crime kind of way.
More in a we opportunistically followed someone who actually belonged here kind of way.

You see, the hotel had a two-door system.
The first door? Unlocked. 
The second? Key card access only.

We sat on the floor by the entrance, shivering, debating whether “homeless in France” was a vibe we could actually pull off, when suddenly—

A guest swiped his key card. The door clicked open.

And the second we heard that beep—we moved.

Like thieves in the night.

(Except we stole nothing—unless you count beer, but we’ll get to that.)

Which leads me to… The Beer Heist.

When all logic and dignity left the chat.

At this point, we had a solid plan.

1️⃣ Locate the breakfast area.
2️⃣ Find snacks.
3️⃣ Figure out where to sleep without getting kicked out or arrested.

The vending machine? Jackpot.

We scraped together our last few coins and, in return, received the stalest snacks known to humankind. I’m talking questionable expiration dates and zero flavor—just vibes.

And then—the discovery of a lifetime.

The beer tap. 🤩🤩
We locked eyes. Looked around. The room was silent.
The beer tap glowed like a holy artifact.

Did we pay for said beer?
…
…

Listen, it was 2 AM in a hotel we were technically trespassing in. Do you really expect me to say yes?

So no, we shamelessly poured ourselves a beer, toasted to our questionable life choices, and accepted our fate as honorary hotel lobby squatters.

Finally, exhausted, full of stolen beer and vending machine snacks, we curled up in a discreet corner of the hotel and tried to sleep.

Then came 5 AM.

A woman appeared. Not security. Not police.
A sweet lady from housekeeping.

And instead of kicking us out, she woke us up with a smile.

"Petit-déjeuner?"

…I had no idea what she said.

But then, she did something that restored my faith in humanity.

💛 She made us breakfast.
💛 She gave us directions to the bus we needed.
💛 She sent us off with a chocolate croissant.

That croissant? Life-changing. Hands down, the best thing I’ve ever eaten.

With that, we caught the bus, went back to the airport, got on another bus, and finally—finally—made it to Paris.

And Here’s the Thing…

Even though everything went wrong, even though we had to sleep on the floor and steal beer from a tap…

We still made it to Paris.

And isn’t that exactly how real life works?
How health journeys work?

You start off with a plan. “This time will be different,” you tell yourself.
You swear you’ll stick with it. You do great for a few days—until life happens.

❌ You skip workouts.
❌ You order DoorDash more times than you’d like to admit. 🫣
❌ You fall into "survival mode" and think, "ugh, I’ll start fresh next week."

And that’s when the guilt creeps in. You start believing you messed up. You start thinking you have to “start over.”

But here’s what I want you to remember, :

🚨 You are still on your way. 🚨

The road might not look like you imagined, but that doesn’t mean you won’t get to where you need to go.

And sometimes, all you need is a little help to get back on track.

I’ve been there. Maybe not literally locked out of a hotel in the middle of nowhere this time, but I’ve had my fair share of 'WTF am I doing?' moments with my health.

Days where I felt like I had completely fallen off track.
Days where I convinced myself I had to start over from scratch.

But just like we still made it to Paris—you’re still on your way.

Even if you’ve fallen off track.
Even if life has thrown you curveballs.
Even if you feel so far behind, you’re not even sure where to start.

You don’t have to do it perfectly—you just have to keep going.

And when you need a little guidance—when you feel like you’re overwhelmed, stuck, or just trying to find your way back to feeling good again—I’ve got you.

That’s why I made The Effortless Grocery Guide—because getting back on track shouldn’t feel harder than navigating a foreign city at 2 AM with no WiFi and no clue where to go next.

Think of it like your Paris bus ticket—the fastest, no-stress way to get back on track. Because let’s be honest… how many times have we all said, ‘I’ll start Monday’?

📥 Inside, you’ll find:
✅ Done-for-you grocery list (so you’re never stuck wondering what to buy)
✅ Simple meal-planning framework (no overcomplicated rules)
✅ Time-saving batch-cooking tips (without eating the same meal 5x in a row)

💡 This guide will save you from another week of staring at your fridge, wondering what to eat. No more guesswork. No more feeling behind.

But don’t wait—grab it now. The faster you start, the easier it gets.

⬇ GRAB YOUR FREE GUIDE HERE ⬇
✨ The Effortless Grocery Guide → Click to Download

Before You Go…

I know I’m not the only one who’s had a “how did I even end up here?” moment.

Whether it’s in a foreign country, on a wellness journey, or just in the middle of everyday life—sometimes things go completely off track. And yet, somehow, we still find our way.

So tell me—what’s something you’re navigating right now? A small win, a messy detour, or a 'WTF am I doing?' moment?

📩 Hit reply—tell me everything. I read every email (probably while aggressively snacking), and who knows? Your story might just inspire my next newsletter.

Your favorite accidental hotel lobby squatter (this time with WiFi),

– Genta 💛

P.S. If your wellness journey ever feels like a budget airline experience—unpredictable, slightly chaotic, and somehow missing the thing you paid for—just remember, you’ll still get there. And I’ll be right here—cheering you on, chocolate croissant in hand. 🥐