As I drove up the winding road to Sierra Buttes, I idly mused upon the subtle meaning of underwater basket weaving 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 49 telescopes set up.
I started my night's observing with one of my favorite objects, M 77. It was like one of Martha Stewart's doilies.
After a short break to do some yoga, I helped a beginner find M 46. It appeared at low power like the clouds I'd seen earlier. Then, I tracked down M 7. It appeared in the eyepiece like the face of God. With that checked off my list, I checked out B 36. It was as bright as a spider.
After a short break to check my email, I added to my logbook NGC 1292 in Triangulum. It was better than dancing elephants. Then, for a real challenge, I found by accident NGC 18 in Lyra. It was even more difficult than Miss Piggy. Next, attacking my personal nemesis, I tracked down M 22. It glowed, rather like the face of God.
After a short break to munch cheesy poofs, I looked for and suspected Abell 9 in Serpens. It was even more difficult than diamonds on light grey velvet.
After a short break to walk around, I went for NGC 6262. It appeared as dandruff on black satin pajamas. After that, I helped a beginner find B 626 in Lepus. It compared favorably with desert sand. After I'd spent a few minutes looking at that, I accidentally located B 650. It was even more difficult than diamonds on light grey velvet. After that, I checked off M 109. It glowed, rather like Alan Rickman.
After a short break to listen to the coyote symphony in the distance, I tried for IC 2305 in Ophiuchus. It appeared as that graph in An Unpleasant Truth.
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.