So, my car was broken into last night across from Sweeney's Saloon in St. Paul. The desperado, who I'm sure has been involved in many high-profile, Ocean's Eleven-type capers, busted my driver's side window to abscond with my backpack, which had 1) my beloved baseball glove and 2) my dirty, yet brand new Nike cleats. He did leave me a glittering, sticky mess of bluish glass, however, and about one hour to get to Menard's and buy some packing tape, which my helpful friend Mikey Sanchez and I used to create a makeshift window for the night.
A surprisingly decent, 80% see-through window that made it to my temp job in Woodbury intact. From there, I made some calls and had an auto glass place come out to the parking lot of my workplace and fix that broken fucker right there. Did you know they did that? It's actually the standard, auto glass practice, I guess. My insurance, which I changed to liability after getting hit-and-run two months ago and having my car "totaled out", did not cover one speck of it, so I'm out $183 for the window as well as my damn baseball gear and my favorite hiking backpack, which I actually bought in Vancouver several years ago, to replace another backpack that was stolen from my car as it sat in the hostel parking lot.
That packing tape window sure rattled around seventy miles-per-hour. It was like I was half-car, half-boy-in-the-bubble for about twenty minutes.