As I drove up the winding road to Fremont Peak State Park, I idly mused upon the insignificance of astrology as I contemplated the night's aurora display. When I arrived at the parking lot, it was filled with friends eager for a night's observing. I counted at least 46 telescopes set up.
I started my night's observing with one of my favorite objects, M 43. It appeared to be an inflamed monkey butt. Then, for a real challenge, I hunted IC 176. It was a blurry likeness of all the other smudges I've ever looked at. With that checked off my list, I glimpsed M 103 in Lepus. It compared favorably with that graph in An Unpleasant Truth. Next, attacking my personal nemesis, I helped a beginner find IC 2195. It sparkled like a spitting cobra. After I'd spent a few minutes looking at that, I located IC 302. It shimmered, as if it were a faint puff of nothingness, with a suspected, but not confirmed, central star.
After a short break to do some yoga, I tried B 287 in Ursa Major. It was a dead ringer for Krylon Ultra-Flat Black.
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 getting shot in the face by Dick Cheney.