Guy behind me in line at the return desk leaned forward and quietly said "Ma'am, your trousers are ripped" or some such brief message that had me reaching back and finding the seam had split after I'd torn them working. Several inches of undies in view. So there I am, walking through the store, wondering if I wrecked one of my better pairs of undies while I was exposed to the world and sitting the ground, instead of being glad I had a better pair on, all things considered.

I think my reaction is thus entirely because of my age. Had this happened, say, when I was 20 and out climbing a mountain. . . oh, wait, it did happen then. I borrowed someone's wind pants for the rest of the trip. I guess this scenario has never resulted in a crisis response.

:)