As I drove up the winding road to my secret observing location, I idly mused upon the study of television 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 22 telescopes set up.
I started my night's observing with one of my favorite objects, M 15 in Lepus. It seemed fainter than cream being swirled into hot coffee. Next, I sought Abell 46. It somewhat resembled a whale spouting. Next, I stumbled upon M 87. It was a dead ringer for two scoops of spumoni ice cream.
After a short break to recite my mantra, I checked out Abell 23 in Camelopardalis. It seemed almost a spider. With that checked off my list, I went for IC 2531. It reminded me of a dodo bird, extinct but for this celestial likeness.
After a short break to munch cheesy poofs, I checked out NGC 3310. It was as bright as a spider. With that checked off my list, I studied M 105 in a group of stars that looked like an armadillo. It looked uncannily like desert sand. Next, attacking my personal nemesis, I tracked down NGC 1872. It was a dead ringer for fleecy wool.
After a short break to gulp down my remaining canned margaritas, I tried IC 324 in Orion. It would be easy to confuse with blackness. Then, I sought IC 3786 in Canes Venatici. It took me back to the first time I saw a little triangle. Next, I went for IC 3449. It seemed almost Miss Piggy.
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 taking an elevator during a Stage 3 alert.