Bruins fans are the worst

I'm riding the train home after a night of drinking (hooray for Whale's Tale!) at a work holiday party, and the rowdiest bunch of hockey fans in the history of poor taste is sitting five rows in front of me. I'm considering reminding them that their sorry excuse for a hockey team hasn't won the Stanley Cup since 1972 and hasn't accomplished anything of significance since I think 1990 (I'm a long-time—if lapsed—follower of the Canadiens, thanks to Patrick Roy). Said superfans are chanting some bullshit that I can't make out over the greatest Christmas playlist of all time on my iPod and I am thoroughly perplexed by the confidence they have in their team—most likely the unreasonable last-minute shot of Dewar's before leaving isn't helping. Now James Brown is telling me that Christmas is love and I'm inclined to be swept away by that for the remainder of the ride. I haven't even reached Lynn yet. I wonder if anyone drank as much as I did.