As I drove up the winding road to Henry Coe State Park, I idly mused upon the cosmological implications of tight underwear as I contemplated the fleecy clouds, hoping they would clear. When I arrived at the parking lot, it was filled with friends eager for a night's observing. I counted at least 55 telescopes set up.
I started my night's observing with one of my favorite objects, M 25. It appeared at low power like a UFO. After that, I tried for B 81. It was easy, just like desert sand.
After a short break to listen to the coyote symphony in the distance, I glimpsed Abell 8. It was not quite as bright as the eternal nothingness of being. With that checked off my list, I tried Abell 1. It was even more difficult than a glimmer of the Big Bang. Next, I helped a beginner find B 603. It seemed almost a nebula. Next, attacking my personal nemesis, I jumped to NGC 5884. It reminded me of a faint puff of nothingness, with a suspected, but not confirmed, central star. Next, attacking my personal nemesis, I sketched Abell 92. It was easy, just like dandruff on black satin pajamas. After I'd spent a few minutes looking at that, I hunted for B 636. It would be easy to confuse with yet another globular. After I'd spent a few minutes looking at that, I glimpsed M 3. It compared favorably with the invisible man. After I'd spent a few minutes looking at that, I tried Abell 90. It was as bright as cotton on velvet. After I'd spent a few minutes looking at that, I slewed to IC 2159. It was better than two scoops of spumoni ice cream. After I'd spent a few minutes looking at that, I jumped to IC 1681. It looked like Smokey the Bear.
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 yet another town star party with clueless newbies.