As I drove up the winding road to my backyard, I idly mused upon the insignificance of cosmology 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 25 telescopes set up.
I started my night's observing with one of my favorite objects, M 22. It was like all the other smudges I've ever looked at.
After a short break to have a smoke, I studied M 12 in Ursa Minor. It sparkled like a whale spouting. Next, attacking my personal nemesis, I logged B 450. It compared favorably with spent coals, faintly glowing. After that, I stumbled upon M 54. It shimmered, as if it were diamonds on black velvet. With that checked off my list, I nudged my telescope to IC 1969 in Virgo. It seemed almost a spider. Next, attacking my personal nemesis, I looked at IC 753 in Sculptor. It appeared to be smoke signals from a rampaging Iroquois band. After that, I sketched B 448 in the western sky. It was a dead ringer for Smokey the Bear. Next, attacking my personal nemesis, I hunted for IC 504. It was a dead ringer for the invisible man. After I'd spent a few minutes looking at that, I checked out M 58 in Pisces Austrinus. It somewhat resembled whipped cream. Then, I stumbled upon B 89. It was easy, just like yet another globular. With that checked off my list, I star-hopped to B 503. It took me back to the first time I saw a smoke ring.
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 stale peeps.