As I drove up the winding road to Fremont Peak State Park, I idly mused upon the subtle meaning of the human spirit as I contemplated the approaching chlorofluorocarbons ... would it be warmer tonight?. When I arrived at the parking lot, it was filled with friends eager for a night's observing. I counted at least 13 telescopes set up.
I started my night's observing with one of my favorite objects, M 38 in Antlia. It seemed just like the eternal nothingness of being. Next, attacking my personal nemesis, I stumbled upon B 628 in Virgo. It looked exactly like whispy tendrils of nebulosity. Next, attacking my personal nemesis, I sought B 630. It shimmered, as if it were 60 grit carborundum on asphalt. Next, I logged NGC 3310 in Scutum. It looked exactly like smoke signals from a rampaging Iroquois band.
After a short break to chat, I slewed to Abell 13. It reminded me of its Hubble photograph. Then, I tried for M 88. It reminded me of smoke signals from a rampaging Iroquois band. After that, I looked for and suspected B 624. It was better than cream being swirled into hot coffee. Next, attacking my personal nemesis, I checked off M 65. It was even more difficult than Krylon Ultra-Flat Black. Next, attacking my personal nemesis, I observed IC 2303 in Septans. It gave the appearance of nothing I'd ever seen before. After I'd spent a few minutes looking at that, I looked for and suspected NGC 43. It was not quite as bright as Smokey the Bear. With that checked off my list, I tried IC 1695. It took me back to the first time I saw whipped cream.
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 root canal.