Is this Heaven? No, it's Fenway Park

Wednesday night's 13-inning marathon loss to the Angels may not have been fun for the Sox, but it was as good as it gets for four best friends and die-hard Boston fans. 

Working at one of the most prominent restaurants next to Fenway Park has its pros and cons.

The unparalleled closeness- literally and figuratively- to the Red Sox is first and foremost among the positives. For up to three hours before and after the game, the establishment is packed to the gills with an endless sea of Boston fans. The atmosphere is electric and it feels like you're surrounded by family.

The aroma of freshly poured beer and sizzling burgers consume the air as a timeless reminder of everything we hold dear about the game of baseball. I often pass by fathers and sons sitting side by side, enjoying a pre-game meal, and a warm fuzzy feeling of nostalgia washes over me. In them I see myself and my father, circa the mid 1990s. Me sporting a Nomar Garciaparra jersey and him teaching me about Luis Tiant's unrivaled wind-up and the legend of Fred Lynn and Jim Rice, the Stardust Twins.

However, as comforting as it all feels, it's hard to stop and reflect when you're waiting on the needs of hundreds of paying customers. The music is blasting. It's hot. You're dripping with sweat and your legs feel like jello. Despite being surrounded by a plethora of mammoth HD televisions, you are unable to watch the game or even keep score.

In one word: it's mayhem.

But, once in a while, the baseball gods seem to smile upon you when you least expect it.

This happened to my three closest friends and I on Wednesday night.

After a torrential downpour delayed the Sox game against the Angels in the 5th inning, countless fans exited the stadium and called it a night.

Lucky for me, I was able to leave work earlier than usual as a result of the lack of customers. To my surprise, I noticed as I was leaving that the game would be resuming at 11:10PM. I immediately called my roommates and, after some convincing, lured them to catch a cab from Allston and attempt to sneak into the game with me.

After being turned away at Gate D because we didn't have any tickets, we seemed doomed. But, like a stroke of luck, one of my roommates called a security guard he knew from college and he got us in for free.

Just like that, we were at Fenway, watching the bottom of the fifth inning commence as the clock approached midnight. The stadium was completely empty. Some estimates had just 500 fans in the stands, total.

It was eery. Surreal almost. The rain stopped. The skies seemed gentle and forgiving. And here we were, literally the only four people in the right field bleachers, front row, leaning over the short fence in celebrated unison.

We began to carry on a personal conversation with Torrii Hunter. It went back and forth for hours. We asked him if he missed Minnesota and he shook his head. We asked if he liked LA and he said "it's aite." We told him he would look great in a Boston uniform and we always respected his game. We told him he belonged in center field, not right. He even threw me a ball.

The game stretched on for hours. A clutch hit by Jacoby Ellsbury pushed the game into extra innings and we watched as the scoreboard clock read 1am, then 2am, then 3am.

Dunkin Donuts began giving away free hot chocolates and I even offered Hunter one.

It seemed to make a lasting impression on the Angels right fielder.

"I could hear entire conversations (among the sparse number of fans)," Hunter told the Orange County Gazette. "They were like, 'Hey, Torii- you want some hot chocolate? We'll get you some hot chocolate.' So I said, "Yeah, alright. That sounds good."

"They went and got me one. One guy came back and he had two cups of hot chocolate- 'Here you go, Torii. We got you one if you want it."

THAT GUY WAS ME.

The Sox eventually lost the game, but it didn't matter to us. We had just witnessed the longest ending Red Sox game in the 99 year history of Fenway Park.

And we carried on a personal conversation with Torrii Hunter that will live on forever in our hearts.

Sometimes, the baseball gods reward those of us who love the game unconditionally.

Wednesday night, or better yet Thursday morning, we were in heaven.