When you wait 25 years for something, when you spend your entire life imagining what that moment will be like, it's nothing if not surreal to suddenly find yourself right smack in the middle of it.

This past Saturday, I woke up from a month long dream and found myself standing on Boylston Street across from the Boston Public Library, amidst a throng of screaming red-and-blue clad diehards, peering through clouds of confetti as the Boston Red Sox World Series Championship Parade made its way toward me.

When you spend so many hours daydreaming about how and when a rite of passage will unfold, it seems natural that you are only building yourself up for disappointment. But my first ever championship parade did not disappoint. Not at all.

We woke up early...sometime around 7am...and as we made our way out of the apartment and towards the T stop at Packards Corner, we found ourselves in a city that did not resemble Boston. Streets that normally are barren at that hour on a Saturday morning were alive with people of all ages, all of whom were covered head to toe in red and blue with an umbrella in one hand and either coffee or beer in the other.

We found a perfect spot to watch the parade - Boylston Street, across from the Boston Public Library - and spent the next three hours waiting. And waiting. The crowd was electric, despite the weather and the lack of sleep. There was free cake, "Let's Go Red Sox" cheers, and a collection of imaginative signs, including one with a picture of Babe Ruth and the Cubs' goat in a very uncomfortable position under the heading "Fuck the Curse."

Finally, around 11:30am, we spotted the parade. Multicolored confetti filled the sky in front of us and the duckboats slowly made their way towards our spot on the street. Then it was a blur of screams, cheers, tears, hugs, and smiles from ear to ear. Johnny leaning out of the front of his duck boat, Bellhorn wearing the biggest smile I had ever seen, Pesky looking stunned by the emornity of the crowd, Manny holding up his "Jeter is golfing today - This is better" sign, Mientkiewicz in a backwards hat making my pants go crazy, Pedro and his Dominican flag cape, Trot pointing his video camera at us, Tek and Mirabelli sitting on the front of their duck boat, Theo talking into a microphone but being drowned out by the cheers, and the trophy. The beautiful gold trophy that inspired so many tears in grown men across the city. And just like that, it was over.

Instantly deciding we hadn't had enough, we made our way down to the Charles River, on the banks of which we stood, staring into the foggy distance waiting for one more taste of the parade. An hour later it was our chance to celebrate again. We watched as one of the boats swerved out of control, and it all made sense as it got closer and we saw that our very own ALDS MVP was in the drivers seat, too busy honking the horn like a madman to worry about steering it. There was Tek sitting on the side of the boat with his daughter on his lap. There was Schilling waving to the crowd, an intense look of satisfaction and appreciation in his eyes. There was awe in the eyes of every single player, amazed at the crowd that had gathered to thank them.

After the parade we walked slowly around the city, breathing in the air that smelled like a mixture of autumn, fresh rain, and unbridled passionate joy. We took pictures of the new Championship banner hanging on the State House and the altered Loews Theater sign that changed the name to Lowe's Theater.

It was 2pm when we walked through the front door of Foley's, my favorite Boston bar, and like a scene in a movie, we walked into a bar packed with smiling Sox fans singing along to "We Are The Champions." It would have been impossible to wipe the smile off my face at that point, and the same goes for the next few hours. The beer was flowing, the bar was packed, and the jukebox was playing Dirty Water and Sweet Caroline at least once an hour. Each time, conversations stopped, everyone turned their attention to the music, and suddenly the entire bar was family, hugging, dancing, and singing along to the songs that feel like home.

That day, I was definitely at home. I was in Boston, the home of the 2004 World Series Champion Boston Red Sox.

Finally.