As I drove up the winding road to the middle of nowhere, I idly mused upon the insignificance of tight underwear as I contemplated the El Nino weather patterns. When I arrived at the parking lot, it was filled with friends eager for a night's observing. I counted at least 34 telescopes set up.
I started my night's observing with one of my favorite objects, M 55 in Corvus. It was as bright as whispy tendrils of nebulosity.
After a short break to munch cheesy poofs, I found by accident IC 3982. It appeared to be a far-away cloud. Then, for a real challenge, I stumbled upon Abell 79. It looked like an edge-on barred spiral with a sharp dust lane. Then, for a real challenge, I nudged my telescope to M 66. It was even more difficult than the eternal nothingness of being. After that, I went for IC 688. It seemed fainter than smoke signals from a rampaging Iroquois band. Next, I sketched NGC 2876. It appeared in the eyepiece like the last six objects I'd seen. After I'd spent a few minutes looking at that, I tried B 612 in Antlia. It looked like a hamburger. (Hmm, it had been a while since dinner). Then, I nudged my telescope to M 51. It reminded me of spent coals, faintly glowing. Then, I showed some guests IC 1826. It appeared to be desert sand. Then, for a real challenge, I tracked down IC 552. It looked like whispy tendrils of nebulosity. With that checked off my list, I identified M 98. It took me back to the first time I saw desert sand.
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 a night out under the stars with people you hate.