Frantic now I bang my fists against the door and yell things like "Hey!" and "Not funny!", insisting on believing that this is some prank the football-playing partygoers have decided to pull on their host's artsy-boy roommate.
But when I pause for breath, I notice that the sounds of the crowd outside have disappeared. Now there is complete silence to match the complete darkness. My shouts reverberate slightly in the tight, claustrophobic ambience of a bathroom with tile floors, but when I put my face up to the cracks in the door, my voice has a strangely dense quality. As if I'm shouting into a wall of packed earth.