For Christmas, my mother gave me a massive squarish fake-leather bag. The best way to describe it would be "old-euro-man-carry-all with stitched-on leather applique things." It obviously became my gym/running away from home bag immediately, and I was repeatedly pleasantly surprised by its carrying capacity until this morning, when, on my normal frantic half-block dash to catch the streetcar, one of the two straps broke, leaving me with a strange, leathery appendage poking out of my left armpit. The handles on this bag were like leather versions of those round wooden handles, so there was a wire or something inside forcing it to keep a sort of rainbow shape, meaning that no matter how hard I tried to tuck it into the bag or even just into my armpit, the thing would spring out and gently poke/caress peoples arms, sides, and backs on the crowded streetcar and subway.
Long-term, I get to buy a new bag, which is awesome, because I love bags. Short-term, it was a bit awkward, because my bag was awkwardly touching people all morning on the way in.