As I drove up the winding road to Henry Coe State Park, I idly mused upon the impact upon modern astronomy of Plato's Republic 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 14 telescopes set up.
I started my night's observing with one of my favorite objects, M 74. It appeared as fleecy wool. After I'd spent a few minutes looking at that, I studied M 85. It looked uncannily like R2-D2. With that checked off my list, I looked at B 178. It appeared at low power like cotton candy. Next, attacking my personal nemesis, I identified IC 2852. It looked uncannily like the invisible man. Then, I sketched M 69. It sparkled like dancing elephants. Then, for a real challenge, I hunted for IC 557 in Camelopardalis. It was not quite as bright as the eternal nothingness of being. Next, I tried for B 299. It gave the appearance of ripples of water. Then, for a real challenge, I nudged my telescope to NGC 3374. It shimmered, as if it were diamonds on black velvet.
After a short break to gulp down my remaining canned margaritas, I helped a beginner find IC 956 in Corvus. It seemed just like dandruff on black satin pajamas. Next, attacking my personal nemesis, I added to my logbook IC 79 in a group of stars that looked like an armadillo. It sparkled like 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 getting shot in the face by Dick Cheney.