I would quite often have classes on the sixth floor of my university, and generally this was preceded by a class on the other side of the campus, so I would be cutting it fine and be faced with a choice. Pack myself in to the creaking lifts (elevators) with about twenty of my fellow students, or make my way up the twelve or thirteen flights to my class. Several of my friends commented on how odd it was that I would take the stairs over the lift, but my point was proven one day when the lift stopped at every floor, and I would be slightly ahead of them each time. Which was the inspiration behind this one. Enjoy!