We have a tunnel for the Metro Transit system here. Occasionally, when atmospheric conditions are a certain way, the wind blows up from the tunnel fast and forcefully. Those of us going up the steps to street level are totally helpless to fight against it. There was a time that I had to gather the hem of my garment very tightly around my thighs while attempting to carry my shopping bags without losing grip on either the kilt or the bags. Unfortunately, I lost a wrinkle of the hem. I tried in futility to regrasp it (the fold), and found myself the focal point of the wind tunnel effect. I was spied by a small troupe of seniors who were not shy about the discovery to their delight that there was a commando running up the stairs trying to equal the burst of gusting air to no avail. For an instant I felt a tinge of self consciousness, then shed it in favor of some self deprecating ribbing that helped make the happy old beaver trappers less empowering over my being found out!