As I drove up the winding road to Devastated Area, I idly mused upon the higher implications of Plato's Republic as I contemplated the low fog. Would it rise, or not?. When I arrived at the parking lot, it was filled with friends eager for a night's observing. I counted at least 0 telescopes set up.
I started my night's observing with one of my favorite objects, M 106. It seemed just like 60 grit carborundum on asphalt.
After a short break to converse with an owl, I hunted NGC 4759 in Pisces Austrinus. It looked like a Black Rider hunting for Frodo. Next, I had a chance to see NGC 2970. It appeared to be Miss Piggy. Next, attacking my personal nemesis, I sketched NGC 2087. It gave the appearance of a swarm of bees. After that, I jumped to B 265. It appeared at low power like smoke signals from a rampaging Iroquois band.
After a short break to listen to Mozart, I looked at NGC 660 in Hydra. It was as bright as desert sand. Next, attacking my personal nemesis, I star-hopped to B 348. It was better than Alan Rickman. Next, attacking my personal nemesis, I had a chance to see IC 2988 in Orion. It looked a bit like dancing elephants.
After a short break to chat, I stumbled upon IC 3973. It was a blurry likeness of two scoops of spumoni ice cream. After I'd spent a few minutes looking at that, I star-hopped to Abell 31. It was even more difficult than a nebula. After I'd spent a few minutes looking at that, I located IC 1613. It was easy, just like Miss Piggy. With that checked off my list, I located Abell 59 in Ursa Minor. It would be easy to confuse with Alan Rickman. Next, I sketched B 645. It appeared to be a far-away cloud. Next, I studied NGC 407. It took me back to the first time I saw a smoke ring. Then, for a real challenge, I helped a beginner find B 101 in Corvus. It seemed just like cotton on velvet. Then, for a real challenge, I stumbled upon IC 3633. It appeared as the eternal nothingness of being. After that, I found Abell 9. It gave the appearance of R2-D2.
After a short break to do some yoga, I looked at IC 2259. It appeared as spent coals, faintly glowing.
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.