I am a teacher or a teacher's aide. One boy tries to sneak out the door. He thinks it is locked. I ask him where he's going. He says he wants an ice cream. I smile and say "OK,  I'll get you one." I open the door. The doorknob wobbles, but it opens and I go down the hall to get the ice cream, even though it isn't the right time or place for that to happen. Now I am at the top of stairs, time to catch a plane. I need to go to the bathroom and leave my purse and papers out on the floor, wondering if anyone will take them. Perhaps I shouldn't leave them unattended (the purse reminds me of the one I lost in Junior high that had a silly picture of Mr. W). I come back out and they are still there. I see the janitor has swept the stairs and left half of each step covered with the dirt/leaves and debris. I try to step on the cleaned sides. Toward the bottom, lots of people and I are racing, accelerating our speed, but not on purpose. It is the function of going down the stairs, and I hope I don't miss a step and fall on my face. I rush for a plane.