For about the past 15 years, I’ve dedicated a big portion of my free time to following, discussing and analyzing the trials and tribulations of the doctors, nurses and support staff at County General Hospital in Chicago. I was in love with ER.

 Growing up, I wanted Dr. Green’s work ethic, Nurse Hathaway’s gumption, Dr. Benton’s smooth surgical skills and Dr. Lewis’ outlook on life. In middle school, I swooned over Dr. Kovac’s accent, tried to embody Abby’s courage and wept over the death of Dr. Green. Then high school came. I admired Neela’s intelligence, was baffled by Ray’s rocker aura and tried to wrap my mind around the various economic, political and social issues concerning health care. Then college.

 I knew ER wouldn’t last forever; its ratings were slipping and the whispers of cancellation floated upon the pages of my TV Guides and Entertainment Weeklys. If I had any chance of taking part in the world of ER, I knew I had to act fast.

 First it was talk of me going to California, storming Warner Bros. and waltzing onto the hallowed ER set. But the idea grew, and soon I asked myself, “Why not?”

 After securing a travel buddy (one of my best friends, Katie), I found myself in Burbank, Calif., in January 2009, during winter break. ER would end in three months and I was there before its departure.

 The wind of luck swept my way. Not only did we snag the only tickets to the highly coveted five-hour tour of the Warner Bros. back lots, but ER happened to be filming that day, too.

 That was when I first started to freak out. ER was filming and I was there. ER was filming, which meant actors were present and I was there. ER was filming, my heroes were just around the corner, my friend and I were the only ones on the tour, and I was there, moments away from a dream come true. Shit!

 Katie and I shared anxious glances as the tour guide drove us past Central Perk and by where Annie and her gang sang “It’s a Hard Knock Life.” We passed a line of aspiring extras and got a wave from Charlie Sheen. Keeping one eye on the road, the tour guide turned to us and said to get ready. I stopped breathing and I felt my heart trying to escape from my chest.

 There it was, the grand view of County General. I looked past the director’s tent, make-up chairs and a giant fan (for fake snow) and my eyes fell upon Dr. Brenner huddled in his winter coat, acting out a scene I wouldn’t see for at least a month. I imagined myself running across the street on a snowy Chicago day and giving Dr. Brenner a big fat hug, but then as I watched, I slowly began to realize that only a few feet away from me wasn’t Dr. Brenner. It was in fact David Lyons, a real person, acting out scripted lines.

 The tour guide began to ramble off ER trivia I already knew by heart and quickly I surveyed my surroundings. I let my eyes wander up the stairs that led to the El platform and realized no train could come through there. A line of cars made loops around the set to create a traffic scene and the fan blew potato peelings over the actors to create a light snow. I looked up expecting to see the snowy, bustling Chicago skyline. All I saw was an expanse of the sunny California blue sky.

 I tuned back to the tour guide as he explained that everything above the El tracks is green-screened to create the iconic Chicago skyline. My mood shifted from crazy ecstatic to slightly annoyed, as if the powers that be had personally tricked me all these years. To add to this, I learned that all the famous rooftop scenes were filmed in an abandoned parking lot with green screens encircling it. I didn’t want to know anymore, because in my mind the people of ER went up to that roof. That roof served as an escape. Lucy threw off dollar bills to give to the homeless and Carter took up a paralyzed boy to throw paper airplanes.

 Noticing my change in mood, the tour guide playfully ordered Scott Grimes (Dr. Archie Morris) to come over and talk to us. My spirits lifted instantly. As he walked to where we were standing, I frantically tried to think of something smart or witty to say. I came up with a high-pitched, giggle-induced, “Hi!” He laughed. I ended up talking his ears off as Katie stood behind me, speechless. He jokingly asked her if she was a Grey’s Anatomy fan, which she is, and guilt faced, Katie turned beet red. Here he was, Dr. Archie Morris in the flesh, talking to me, an ER fan from Texas. All these years I hoped and dreamed this day would come because growing up, ER was the one constant in my life. Archie Morris, I mean Scott Grimes, was talking to me!

 After his departure, we were escorted to stage 11 — the recently dedicated “ER Stage.” I strolled the hallways, took a quick lap around trauma 1, and took a picture at the admit desk and in the staff lounge. I found the elevators and ventured toward the stairs that would lead to the rest of the hospital but only found a dead end. The stairs led to a small wooden platform overlooking the stage. It wasn’t the ER I knew.

 Four months later, I curled up on a couch to watch the series finale. I looked back at my amazing experience and couldn’t believe I accomplished something I had only dreamed of. But as the last scene began to unfold and the camera began its slow zooming out of County General, I shut out the memories of my visit. Instead, as the El tracks entered the screen and a train raced by against a Chicago night, I allowed myself one last time to revel in the existence of ER