[TG.]
Well, according to the rumor mill, you ran into a tripwire rather late in the evening while looking for the guestbook. The tripwire triggered a bucket of molasses which poured over your head, and then a pillowcase full of chocobo feathers. You made your excuses to whomever it was who found you—honestly, a lot of people are claiming to have seen you—and left, after signing the guestbook.