In 2018, a friend texted me: “Meet me in Moscow. I’m going to the World Cup.” I had no visa, no hotel, and no contacts in Russia. But during the tournament, any ticket counted as entry. Every match was sold out, so I scoured the secondary market until I landed a seat in Sochi. I never went to that game—the ticket was my passport.

Days later, I walked into Luzhniki Stadium for an opening round match, completely alone but wide open. The energy was electric, a current running through the city. I met strangers who became friends overnight, scored an invitation to another game, and later connected with a group from London who pulled me into their world. Days after arriving with nothing, I was on a half-billion-dollar yacht in Spain.

Sometimes the wildest leaps become the best chapters.