Day 3: The Paris train getaway

The Game: Three truths and one lie, blog-style.

The Instructions: For the next four days, I'll be posting four life stories. You get to pick out the fake. Comments will be off until the official day of the reveal.

The Inspiration: CJane's original.

*****


A defining moment of my life was a month-long trip to Europe. The original intent was for an internship writing articles for the German Federal Foreign Office web site. But myself and my friend Stefanie took off a week early to tour London and Paris.

Oh, EUROPE. HOW I LOVE THEE. I have a few American friends raising their kids out there (Hi Lindsey! What up Felicia!) and I'm totally jealous.

Stefanie and I had planned out our trip so we'd spend a few days in London, take the Chunnel to Paris, stay for a few days in France, then take the Eurorail to Berlin.

On our last day in France, I wanted to see Versailles. Our train to Berlin didn't leave until 9 p.m., leaving a solid day for the 45-minute train ride to the palace of King Louis XIV, the Sunking.

Understandably exhausted from a week of non-stop sight-seeing, Stefanie decided to just stay in Paris, eat a baguette and see the Eiffel Tower one last time. I took the trip without her.

Arriving at Versailles, I was completely awe-struck. I had mapped out my sight-seeing on the train ride over -- a tour through the Hall of Mirrors, then a walk through the gardens -- and the opulence, size and grandeur of the palace was unlike anything I had ever seen or read about.

After entering, I anxiously waited in line to buy a ticket on my credit card, only to hear the three words no one wants to hear. "Credit card denied."

A little reference stamp: this was May 2004. GJ and I had been married for 9 months. People are generally in disbelief to hear I'd leave my husband for a month so early in our marriage, but sightseeing in Europe? A prestigious internship? I'd be stupid to pass that up.

I went to some payphones in the office space downstairs and used my calling card to call our bank. Turns out, because there was activity on the card in two separate countries (GJ using it in America, me using it in Europe), they activated the fun little "security feature" and canceled our card. Although I could verify all my personal information, I was not at my listed phone number in Utah. ID fraud, right?

Trying to be safe and not risk getting all my cards stolen, it was the only credit card I brought with me. I had spent the rest of my cash paying out the hostel tab that morning.

Here I was, in one of the most beautiful places in France, and I couldn't even go inside.

So I did the only logical a 20-year-old college student would do. I snuck into the gardens.

The Versailles gardens are jaw-dropping. 250 acres of landscaped gardens, sculptures, fountains, a lake, pocket parks. It perfectly complements the massive 700-room castle. You could spend days in the gardens. I didn't even make it to the middle.

When I finally made the walk back to the train, I was already late to meet Stefanie at the Eurorail station in Paris. And I had no money to buy the 2.50 Euro ticket.

I said a silent prayer. "God, please help me. I need someone, something - anything - to get me on that train. I don't know what to do."

I explained to numerous train employees the situation with my credit card, begging for a ticket back to Paris. No one cared.

Knowing my credit card wouldn't work, I still handed it to the cashier, thinking this would be the moment when God would intervene. As the cashier shook his head and handed me a blank receipt with the words "par la carte de crédit nié," my face went flush. I asked when and where the next train to the Eurorail station came, and the cashier told me the platform number with a warning in broken English that the train was leaving right then and another wouldn't come by for another 30-45 minutes.

So I did the only logical a 20-year-old college student would do. I ran for the ticket turnstiles, jumped over them and made a mad dash for the platform.

And as I ran across that main floor and into the loading dock where I slipped onto the train, God sent me my help. Two sister Mormon missionaries walked by, staring at the American girl darting through the crowd.