I'm sitting in a bed. Fletcher (from acting class) is in a manual wheelchair. There are many doors to this room/area. One in front of the bed is glass and leads to the street. I'm in a hall of a school building actually. Fletcher needs to go to bathroom, so he goes down stairs (in chair). He says it's the best route for him. I decide I have to go to the bathroom, so I choose to go out the glass door, in my chair. I feel nervous, strangers, so I go back in and lock the door and the screen door. I go down the stairs, in my chair, a butt-controlled ride. Part way down, there's a metal rod sticking up to slow runaway chairs. At this point, I get up. It's easier to walk. The stairs have been messed up by Fletcher's chair rides. The carpet is rumpled and some stairs are long or missing, making the walking uneven. I look for a bathroom. I see two doors. The name plaques are Italian, and lots of decals and graffiti are on doors. One said "terrier ricotta," or something like that. I stop a young kid (early 20's), janitor, and ask him, "Which one's the women's room?" I feel annoyed. I think I'm in the performing arts class area because the Italian words are from opera class. He can't remember so he sticks his head in one of the doors. A woman comes out. She says she knows it's the women's room because she did the sigh change. I thank both and go in. The room is a mess. There are toilets all around, but no stalls. I sit on one, the most protected from view. As I bare my ass, a guy comes in. I'm really annoyed and I stand up, covering myself. Then I sit down again and discreetly try to cover myself. He mutters some apology. He's looking for something. My mother/older lady is upset and insulted. He drops his white cane as he backs out. The I pick up a life magazine and see an article on Elizabeth Taylor. The picture moves; it's a movie. The narration talks about how expressive and white her hands are. She has been in an accident and is a para. Her hands are lovely but are nervously clenching and unclenching one another. I get up and go back to bed. I want to make sure all the doors are locked. Something is making me nervous. Then Elizabeth appears in my room. She's upset and wants to explain to me about the "Life" story, something about a lost baby. We go back downstairs. Chuck sees us from across room. I know he's going to recognize her and really want to talk to her, see her, feel her. He does. He comes over. He goes, "Wow! It must be neat to be so beautiful." Elizabeth and I look at each other like we understand each other. I explain to Chuck that to look like she does leaves herself wide open for guys like Chuck to walk up and take her time and energy. They insult her. They are dumb, and they think they are being smart, cute, and sexy, but it's boring and anger-producing to have to always deal with non-understanding jerks. She and I go back into the bathroom to look at "Life" magazine and talk.