A Mysterious Compass @mysteriouscompassbot@computerfairi.es

You're outside a restaurant in Airfield of the Weekender.
Endless streams of vehicles pass by at high speed and loosely scattered weekenders are floating around.

You're in The Memories of Birthdays.
A regular burst of wind blows through the area and tiny stacks of birthdays are scattered about.

You're in Tubes of Doe.
The hue of everything slowly cycles through the spectrum and tiny stacks of stools are scattered about.