when bad things happen to good people

Here's how it goes:
Thursday, May 15 11:30a—arrive in Midway airport. Have do make decision, save tons of cash and take El to Wrigley or hop in cab. Rae Anne reminds me, 'Time is money.' Cab it is. Take sweet pic along the way in rather ghetto area, contains graffiti and verbiage that states: 'I need a project chick.' Need I say more? No. Arrive at Wrigley a little after 12 noon, after stressing out about regular street traffic and morons abound. Give cabbie my credit card, which he calls in. Get props from the dispatcher for giving almost $8 tip. Yesss. Meet Rae and H outside of Bernie's no time for a beer so I have to go without—sad.
Proceed to drop off all my stuff at apartment of Rae's sister, or should I say the condo that her roommate's mother bought her/is letting her live in. Rough. Nice place, 3 block from Wrigley.
Proceed back to game—scored 3 bleachers tickets on StubHub, super stoked about that. Turns out Bleacher seats have their own entrance and it is GA—rumor has it that is where all the drunks sit—rumors confirmed. We arrive and immediately get beer. Duh. We sit in the first row of the upper, level bleachers surrounded by people consuming copious amounts of food and alcohol. Ahhh, this is the life. Fast forward a few innings, no scoring, no scoring, no scoring, drunk boy men without shirts, girl flashes tits and gets kicked out, fat boyman flashes his tits as political statement, does not get kicked out. Cubs score 4 runs in one inning, Padres still score none. Eat, drink, drink, drink. Take two fan photo pictures (super sweet) game over, take tons of sweet pics of our own rock out after they tell us we need to chug our beers and leave.
We decide to proceed to a Cubbies bar and hit up Sluggers. All is going amazing. We drink way more beer, Newcastle anyone? Take some jello shots and eat some hot wings—all the while taking tons of pics. All the sudden, everything takes a turn for the worse. Drunk, passed out girl is being carried outside by two gals; we're nosy and decide to investigate. Gals do not know here, they found her passed out in the bathroom. We keep watching as her head lolls about and she voms on herself, all the while incoherent. I proceed to tell three bouncers about her precarious state, all of them laughing and blowing me off. I call 9-1-1. Of course I don't know the address of the bar, first 9-1-1 operator hangs up on me. Side bar: WHO DOES THAT?!?! Call back immediately, and proceed to front of bar to provide cross streets. Operator confirms folks are on their way. All the while gal is still passed out and vomiting—oh wait, this is AFTER the Sluggers staff drug her off their property. Sirens sound in the distance. All of the sudden there are two fire trucks, a cop and ambulance. I then receive a call asking where we are, I had to go into the street and flag them down. Needless to say, there area A LOT of people watching this craziness all go down. Medics talk to us, talk to gal, put her on stretcher—she becomes coherent enough to pull down her shirt which is no longer covering her jiggly belly—whoops. Drama is over, we go back in the bar.
A few minutes late, maybe five, a bouncer asks me to follow him outside. I'm like sure! He then tells me I can go. I was shocked and asked if he was for real, asked me if I was serious and told me of course. I gathered the gals real quick and moved to the outside of the fence. I then yelled at those trash bags and got yelled at by some junky ass waitress. I was also told this was private property and they can do as they please, I asked what would have happened if she had died—no good retort to that. I then proceeded to walk down the sidewalk and yell at the patrons—sorry patrons—that they should really reconsider their patronage to an establishment that will treat people in such a fashion and not give a shit about over serving and putting their customers in danger. People stared at me with their mouths open—I am sure it gave them good fodder for later conversation. Story ends at about 6:45p CST—night goes on until around 2-3a CST.