This story seems a bit long, and whether you choose to believe it or not is up to you. It starts early January in Ypsilanti, Michigan, at a fraternity party, with some mundane and not so paranormal activity, and ends with me still crying to this day when I think back on the events that took place.
The party at my fraternity house was packed, no room to walk or move, each of the bathrooms had a line ten people long, and I had to pee. Typically, I would just pee off the fire escape (if you’ve never tried peeing off a third floor fire escape you’re missing out), but this particular night it was just about 0° outside, and for fear of frostbite on my “Little Jimmy,” I found a group of eight girls from the sorority house next door, explained my predicament and asked if I could borrow the keys and run to their house to relieve myself.
I ran up the back steps to the rather large, older home, and entered through the kitchen. (BING BING) “Kitchen door open,” the mechanical voice on the house alarm pad chimed. I shut the door behind me and locked it. (BING BING) “Kitchen door closed,” the mechanical voice chimed. I don’t know why, so please don’t ask, but that night in my urgency to run to pee, I opted to skip the bathroom on the first floor and I ran up the back staircase to the bathroom at the top of the stairs. Being that I had just left the eight occupants of this house at the party next door, and since I’m a guy and was only going number one, I peed with the bathroom door open.