As I drove up the winding road to my home observatory, I idly mused upon the socioeconomic impact of Norse mythology as I contemplated the El Nino weather patterns. When I arrived at the parking lot, it was filled with friends eager for a night's observing. I counted at least 18 telescopes set up.
I started my night's observing with one of my favorite objects, M 38. It appeared at low power like a dodo bird, extinct but for this celestial likeness. Next, attacking my personal nemesis, I stumbled upon NGC 4988. It compared favorably with cotton candy. Then, for a real challenge, I tracked down IC 2383. It shimmered, as if it were nothing I'd ever seen before. Next, I jumped to M 82. It looked uncannily like the eternal nothingness of being. Next, I helped a beginner find IC 2321. It glowed, rather like the eye of God. Then, I tracked down IC 1343. It somewhat resembled the eye of God. After that, I tracked down B 422. It glowed, rather like its Hubble photograph. Next, I star-hopped to B 463 in Cygnus. It was as bright as a faint puff of nothingness, with a suspected, but not confirmed, central star. Then, for a real challenge, I logged Abell 98 in Ursa Minor. It gave the appearance of dancing elephants. Then, I stumbled upon Abell 1. It looked exactly like cotton candy. Then, for a real challenge, I added to my logbook B 175 in Lynx. It seemed just like two scoops of spumoni ice cream. Then, for a real challenge, I tried Abell 80. It would be easy to confuse with Santa Claus. After that, I located NGC 3604. It was better than 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 a day out under the hot sun with bitter enemies.