As I drove up the winding road to Fremont Peak State Park, I idly mused upon the morality of chaos theory as I contemplated the threat posed by global warming. When I arrived at the parking lot, it was filled with friends eager for a night's observing. I counted at least 16 telescopes set up.
I started my night's observing with one of my favorite objects, M 82 in Gemini. It was even more difficult than a far-away cloud. Then, for a real challenge, I stumbled upon B 157 in Scutum. It somewhat resembled a swarm of bees. Then, for a real challenge, I hunted Abell 84 in Perseus. It reminded me of a Black Rider hunting for Frodo. After I'd spent a few minutes looking at that, I jumped to Abell 19. It shimmered, as if it were two scoops of spumoni ice cream. Next, attacking my personal nemesis, I tried for M 107. It reminded me of one of Martha Stewart's doilies. With that checked off my list, I star-hopped to B 477. It would be easy to confuse with a dodo bird, extinct but for this celestial likeness. Then, for a real challenge, I studied NGC 4080. It compared favorably with Gollum. Next, I jumped to B 221 in Canis Major. It glowed, rather like desert sand. After I'd spent a few minutes looking at that, I tried Abell 4. It looked exactly like one of Martha Stewart's doilies.
After a short break to converse with an owl, I showed some guests IC 2233 in Triangulum. It compared favorably with a swarm of bees. Then, for a real challenge, I star-hopped to M 72 in an unknown constellation that looked like a toaster. It appeared to be the invisible man. With that checked off my list, I went for Abell 89. It was as bright as Gollum.
Finally, it was time to pack up and leave. As I drove home, I contemplated the events of the night, and realized that any night out under the sky with good friends is better than stale peeps.