Don't believe the hype. Wednesday night I had the, err, pleasure to witness the Red Sox game live from the top of the Green Monster.

At first I was amazed at the view. Impressive. I couldn't wait for one of Manny's home runs to come soaring at me.

We sat and called friends and family to tell them the news. "I'm on the Green Monster!" "Can you believe it?"

But after the first two innings the novelty had worn off.

From my vantage point I could not see left or center. I could not see the scoreboard. I couldn't see the names on the back of the opposition. "Who's up?" "Is that, Garko?"

While I sat trying to focus on the happenings of the game, my attention waned. Oh, how I wanted to be in the "other" seats.

The "other" seats sat planted four rows back from the field, next to the Red Sox dugout.

The plan was to have two people of our six-man party share the experience. We'd each get to spend three innings atop the Monster and spend the other six at the dugout.

At the end of the third, I started my descent. We met the next pair, exchanged tickets and departed. About the time I got to ground level, the cellphone rang.

"They won't let us up."

"What? Why not?"

"We can't exchange tickets."

I was pissed. Before the game I had calculated the best time to be on the Monster. There was no way I wanted to be up there for a comeback win or when Papelbon pitched, should he pitch. Come the fourth, I'd still be able to see Dice-K up close and personal. I reasoned that it ws best to get it out of the way.

Yup, be the first, that's the ticket.

But the news hit me as if struck by one of Ortiz' home run swings.

I headed back disappointed, while the fourth-inning Monster pair, tried its best to negotiate a settlement.

Nothing doing.

So I was stuck atop the world, searching for a way off.

They say these seats are the "best seats" in the game. Everyone wants the opportunity. But at $180, I would have skipped given the chance.

At least the beer line was short. But here in the "best seats in baseball" the choices were Bud Light at $6.75 or a premium beer, in this case Heineken, for $7.50. Are you kidding me? Heineken, premium beer? Hmm.

Meanwhile waitresses served my friends the Nectar of the Gods as they sat without missing a single pitch.

At the end of the sixth, my sympathetic pals chose to sacrifice the dugout seats; we'd finally get a taste of the sweet life.

That we did. The staircase that we had traveled before had been cut off, so we were forced in a different direction - heaven.

Okay, so it wasn't heaven, but I saw how the important people live. We went down a corridor of luxury suites complete with leather, plasma and a fully-stocked bar. Shots anyone?

Along the hall's walls were plaques of Red Sox Hall of Famers - Cronin, Yaz, Fisk. We walked past the Pavillion and smelled the fillets grilling and saw plates of deserts being offered to VIP parties.

"Where are we? I asked my Monster partner as we peaked into the rooms for a view.

We hap-hazardly found another staircase, though parting was difficult.

We met our now impatient friends and made our way to the seats. Upon arrival some gracious fans were leaving in Row 3 and offered the ticket stubs so the other pair could join us for the final nine outs.

Ah, this is how it was supposed to be. Now, if only they can tie this thing up.

The comeback was on. The Sox scored two in the seventh. Loaded them in the eighth with no outs. Two strikeouts and pop-out later it was over. The writing was on the wall, that Big Green Wall.

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