Storyteller walking in

When we had been sitting on the plane for 7 hours and we still saw nothing but blue and blue and blue we started to think that maybe this whole America thing is just a huuuuge big joke and we're going to end up in India after all. We did not.
After spending 9 hours at JFK (killing time with admiring various things, just like state symbols on our brand-new quarters) we arrived to the enchanted midnight fairy tale called college campus, which, according to our rather random and half-asleep, full-jetleg observations, consists of many different things:
- crickets (millions of them actually, roaring all around)
- trees
- squirrels (dozens of them)
- lovely, old-fashioned street lamps
- redbrick houses
- beds (their importance increased a LOT after 30 hours of not-sleeping, that's how they made it to this list)
It was not really that "storyteller walking in with a single bag, a lute and a feather hat, whistling and smiling" kind of thing - it was rather like "the storyteller dragging herself with two backpacks and a suitcase, yawning uncontrollably and blinking like an owl with short-sight issues". But it still had a certain feeling of a beginning adventure.