I swear, one of these days I'm going to retitle my journal to "All the Weird Crap in the World, and How it All Happens to Rob".

Work today was busy. Nothing earth-shattering, just more of the same drudge... but a lot more of it. So as a result, I was tired when I left work.

I made a quick stop to get myself a new Metro pass for June, then headed into the train. So far, so good. I actually made it off the train without any further incidents of pooping vagrants, so I was starting to count myself lucky.

Oh, Rob. You silly, silly man.

The bus pulled into the station and, like usual, I made sure I was the last one on. I only need to go one stop, so being the last on usually means I don't have to elbow my way past a few dozen people to get back to the door. Except today, the driver thought he's be really, really efficient, and pack two trains-worth of people onto one bus... meaning I got squeezed into the midddle of the bus, far away from any doors.

And that's where the fun began.

The driver was either very erratic, new at his job, or stoned. He accelerated too fast and braked too hard for a crowded bus, which meant all the passengers were being tossed around inside like beans in a maraca. I had my briefcase with me today (slung over my shoulder), and that being swung back and forth was also messing with my balance, so I was straphanging with both hands to make sure I wouldn't fall over.

About this time, Jen called. My cell phone is currently set so that when she calls, it plays the tune to "Pokemon". This prompted a bunch of little kids to start dancing around my legs, bobbing up and down, while shouting at the top of their little lungs "HIS PANTS ARE SINGING POKEMON! HIS PANTS ARE SINGING POKEMON!" in their obnoxious sing-song voices. I couldn't answer my phone, what with both my hands trying to ensure that I didn't topple over and crush one of them under me.

My voice mail failed to pick up. So Jen called back. And they started screaming and dancing again. And my voice mail again failed to pick up. So Jen called back again. And they started screaming again.

By the time my stop came, and I started pushing my way through people to get the hell out of there, the kids were squealing and pretending to be Pikachus and generally making everyone else's life miserable because, once again, their mom didn't even try to calm them down. She just laughed, and watched them scream about Pokemon on a bus full of tired people. when I left, one of them actually had the nerve to say, "Oh, no more Pokemon."

That's right, kid. No more Pokemon. Rob's taking his singing Pokemon pants and going home.