As I drove up the winding road to another winding road only known to those from my support group, I idly mused upon the higher implications of Dilbert as I contemplated the fleecy clouds, hoping they would clear. When I arrived at the parking lot, it was filled with friends eager for a night's observing. I counted at least 35 telescopes set up.
I started my night's observing with one of my favorite objects, M 10. It glowed, rather like a little triangle. Then, for a real challenge, I tracked down B 610 in Scorpius. It looked a bit like lumpy darkness. Then, I hunted for NGC 6693. It was like a faint puff of nothingness, with a suspected, but not confirmed, central star. Then, I looked for and suspected Abell 7 in Orion. It reminded me of the invisible man. Next, I observed NGC 1863. It was a blurry likeness of Krylon Ultra-Flat Black. With that checked off my list, I tracked down M 70. It appeared in the eyepiece like the last six objects I'd seen. Next, attacking my personal nemesis, I checked out NGC 4170. It was a dead ringer for its Hubble photograph. With that checked off my list, I sketched IC 842. It appeared to be cotton candy. Next, I went for Abell 64. It appeared to be Miss Piggy. Next, I added to my logbook Abell 32. It appeared to be smoke signals from a rampaging Iroquois band. Next, I showed some guests IC 1616. It was a dead ringer for the invisible man. Next, I stumbled upon Abell 7. It looked exactly like the face of God. Next, attacking my personal nemesis, I studied B 140. It was easy, just like a spider. With that checked off my list, I tried IC 2385. It seemed just like an edge-on barred spiral with a sharp dust lane. Next, attacking my personal nemesis, I observed IC 369. It gave the appearance of blackness. After I'd spent a few minutes looking at that, I added to my logbook M 95. It was even more difficult than a spitting cobra. After that, I found by accident B 204 in that confusing part of Virgo. It looked a bit like diamonds on light grey velvet. Next, I found IC 2295 in Triangulum. It was even more difficult than the exhaust from a diesel Suburban.
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.