Fans

I decided to take a later bus than usual home last night, to my dismay as it turns out. Naturally, this was the night of the soccer home game that drew a gadzillion fans. My trip home went from a half hour to more than two hours, from a straight shot to a transfer involving forty minutes in a standing room only coach between a guy who smelled of stale stogies and a young women who really should have worn more so I wouldn’t have had to feel so creepy.

I don’t begrudge them their fanship but I don’t get it either. These people who certainly could well afford other diversions, soccer tickets not being exactly cheap, choose to cram themselves into buses for the ride to the stadium, at rush hour of course, displacing the shlubs like me who are just trying to get home. Then they wait in line for the privilege of sitting in uncomfortable seats surrounded by mobs of other screaming  dunderheads, eating overpriced food and in this venue anyway, frequently getting rained on.

All this so they can watch allegedly grown men play a children’s game.

Everyone should do the things I like to do. Only, not at the same time as me. I don’t like crowds. So at least, please stay off my bus.