I thought I came for Philosophy, not band class

Sitting in the bathroom stall,
I hear the symphony of fall:
The ever-running paper towel,
The flushing toilet's endless growl.
A cacophony of coughs and wheezes,
A chorus of body-wrenching sneezes.
Squeaking boots along the floor,
Mittens damp upon the door.
The sanitiser always pumping,
beside me too much pie goes plunking.
The swipe of tissues from the box,
And headaches timed with ticking clocks.
Plunking girl begins to hack,
Painkiller bottle opens - crack!
I dare not leave this tiny stall,
And expose myself to the music of Fall.