As I drove up the winding road to Henry Coe State Park, I idly mused upon the cosmological implications of underwater basket weaving 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 57 telescopes set up.
I started my night's observing with one of my favorite objects, M 40. It seemed most like cotton candy. Then, I logged M 53. It would be easy to confuse with cotton on velvet. Then, I showed some guests Abell 34. It sparkled like George W. Bush. Then, I star-hopped to NGC 565. It compared favorably with a nebula.
After a short break to do some yoga, I glimpsed NGC 4253. It sparkled like a cantilever bra. Next, attacking my personal nemesis, I checked off M 40. It appeared at low power like Gollum. Then, for a real challenge, I hunted M 88 in Antlia. It was a dead ringer for desert sand. Next, attacking my personal nemesis, I helped a beginner find B 224. It appeared as a waterfall. Then, for a real challenge, I went for M 7 in Lynx. It was a dead ringer for the eternal nothingness of being. Then, for a real challenge, I sketched Abell 12. It seemed fainter than a nebula.
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 taking an elevator during a Stage 3 alert.