The many levels of Ghetto...

Okay, sorry for the long delay between posts, but it has been a whirlwind of road trips, in-laws, break ins, and VBS. (Cue Elvis song, "In the Ghetto") But our car was broken into on Saturday night at the hotel valet in Jacksonville, and here are the pics from our hilarious 10 hour turned into 12 hour trip back up I95 sans rear window.

Obligatory CSI picture of the damage. The crooks stole our GPS and the change from our change drawer. (However the left behind the power cord for the GPS.) Seeing as they did not steal Sony DVD camera or the Bugaboo stroller, it is definite that they are idiots. (Oh, and did I mention that we received the call from the valets at 2 am. Thanks.)

The hotel tried to box up our window. The cardboard didn't make it through Georgia.

So then we decided to be Scuba enthusiasts and just use a towel. It's kind of sporty don't you think? But then it started to rain...

So we stopped in Santee, SC and got that ever trusty household friend, duct tape. (I'm trying not to pee in my pants while I take this photo.)

Henry inspects the ghetto-ness of his car. He is thankful his car seat is on the other side. But sure does wish the window wasn't so danged loud.

Duct tape may hold America together, but does not work so great on windows. I tried to patch up the holes with various pieces of trash from around the car. This lasts for about 2 exits.

Then we bought a tarp and tarped off the whole door. But the tarp caught air and billowed out like a sail. It was the loudest configuration of the day, not to mention pretty dangerous as it rendered changing lanes impossible.

Our final, and least ghetto, configuration of the day, somewhere in North Carolina. And to think, between Sloan and me we've got three bachelors degrees and two master's degrees.