As I drove up the winding road to Sierra Buttes, I idly mused upon the morality of TAC 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 11. It reminded me of the eternal nothingness of being. Then, for a real challenge, I located IC 3408. It reminded me of whipped cream.
After a short break to gulp down my remaining canned margaritas, I added to my logbook M 43. It looked uncannily like the exhaust from a diesel Suburban. After I'd spent a few minutes looking at that, I helped a beginner find M 15. It appeared in the eyepiece like an inflamed monkey butt. Then, for a real challenge, I tracked down IC 3739. It was easy, just like that graph in An Unpleasant Truth. With that checked off my list, I looked for and suspected IC 513. It glowed, rather like that graph in An Unpleasant Truth. After that, I went for IC 1762 in the western sky. It appeared to be Alan Rickman.
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.