Duck into a room

You bolt to the left, spying a door between the lockers. It doesn't have a window, meaning its probably not a classroom, assuming that's the truth. Only, as you swing the thankfully unlocked door open, the world lurches around you. The floor before you suddenly tilts downward, and your next step misses the mark, like if you tried to go upstairs and counted one too many at the top, another 12 inches or so more than you were expecting between your foot and the solid ground beneath it. You fall flat on your face, knees buckling such that your ass sticks straight up into the air, boxers pulled tight across the back, and your still stiff rod pointing to the tile below, framed for anyone behind you between your legs. Slowly, as the world puts itself right-side-up again, you raise your head, trying to figure out what room you found yourself in, or at least what it looked like to you.