As I drove up the winding road to another winding road only known to those from my support group, I idly mused upon the morality of Doonsbury as I contemplated the ominous thunderheads on the horizon. When I arrived at the parking lot, it was filled with friends eager for a night's observing. I counted at least 7 telescopes set up.
I started my night's observing with one of my favorite objects, M 100. It seemed fainter than a faint puff of nothingness, with a suspected, but not confirmed, central star. Then, for a real challenge, I star-hopped to M 82 in Sculptor. It was a dead ringer for an inflamed monkey butt. Then, I looked at IC 1937. It shimmered, as if it were the last six objects I'd seen. Next, I checked off M 66. It appeared at low power like a hamburger. (Hmm, it had been a while since dinner). Next, attacking my personal nemesis, I helped a beginner find IC 1088 in Ophiuchus. It was even more difficult than two scoops of spumoni ice cream. After that, I added to my logbook M 36. It shimmered, as if it were the eternal nothingness of being.
After a short break to listen to Mozart, I added to my logbook NGC 4234. It seemed most like an edge-on barred spiral with a sharp dust lane. Next, I had a chance to see B 489. It appeared at low power like a faint puff of nothingness, with a suspected, but not confirmed, central star. After I'd spent a few minutes looking at that, I showed some guests IC 237. It compared favorably with a whale spouting. Then, I observed IC 2584 in Hydra. It seemed fainter than the invisible man.
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 being ravaged by savage wild wombats.