My commute home last night was comical. Or at least it would have been if I hadn't used up my sense of humor during my thirteen hour work shift.

After a long day, I just wanted to ride silently home and crawl into my bed. Unfortunately, I just happened to choose the EXACT moment that all the fans were coming home from the Monday night football game. The trains were packed to the max with an incredible amount of linebacker-sized, black & silver clad, drunk-on-cheap-beer, stumbling, bumbling, testosterone & potato chip overdosed, game-hyped, Raider Nation freaks.

I wish I had had the energy to truly absorb the ambiance of it all. In my cranky, exhausted state, I had to restrain myself from not getting completely bitchy and screaming, "Get the F*#& outta the way and while you're at it shut the F$*@ up!!!!" Thankfully, I was able to restrain myself and managed to find a small corner of the train that didn't smell too much like stale beer breath.

As we rode toward our destinations, young men were walking back and forth along the length of the train shouting, “RAIDERS!!” in regular intervals, inspiring others to join in the chant. The mood was surprisingly cheerful considering that their team had apparently just gotten quite an ass-whoopin’.

I spent the rest of the ride home watching a group of extremely inebriated guys heckle the one and only member of their bunch to not attend the game in a football jersey or appropriately printed T-shirt. He had decided to join them in his khakis and a polo shirt. This inspired an incomfortably long chorus of, “Polo, polo, polo, polo, polo, polo….”

I made a mental note to pay more attention to the football schedule in the future.