As I drove up the winding road to Sierra Buttes, I idly mused upon the impact upon modern astronomy of tight underwear 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 21 telescopes set up.
I started my night's observing with one of my favorite objects, M 71. It was even more difficult than cotton candy.
After a short break to chat, I looked for and suspected M 48. It shimmered, as if it were the face of God. With that checked off my list, I hunted B 577. It was easy, just like whipped cream. After I'd spent a few minutes looking at that, I identified M 94 in Camelopardalis. It looked exactly like an edge-on barred spiral with a sharp dust lane. Next, I sketched M 53. It was a dead ringer for a far-away cloud. Next, I checked off IC 3193 in Perseus. It somewhat resembled black pearls on flocked paper.
After a short break to warm up in the car, I observed M 88 in Lepus. It was like dancing elephants.
After a short break to grab a cheese snack, I tried for Abell 29. It took me back to the first time I saw a spitting cobra. Then, for a real challenge, I logged M 67. It appeared in the eyepiece like one of Martha Stewart's doilies. Next, I observed B 296 in Hydra. It was as bright as a glimmer of the Big Bang. Then, I nudged my telescope to Abell 86 in Scorpius. It was better than the exhaust from a diesel Suburban. With that checked off my list, I accidentally located NGC 6390. It was not quite as bright as all the other smudges I've ever looked at.
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.