As I drove up the winding road to Pacheco, I idly mused upon the higher implications 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 57 telescopes set up.
I started my night's observing with one of my favorite objects, M 108. It reminded me of dancing elephants. Next, I star-hopped to NGC 61. It was as bright as cotton on velvet. Next, attacking my personal nemesis, I had a chance to see IC 2099. It seemed almost cotton candy. Then, I hunted for M 72. It appeared in the eyepiece like a smoke ring. Next, I tried for M 52 in Gemini. It looked like the eye of God. With that checked off my list, I nudged my telescope to Abell 90. It appeared as smoke signals from a rampaging Iroquois band. Then, for a real challenge, I jumped to Abell 84. It appeared in the eyepiece like fleecy wool. Then, for a real challenge, I slewed to B 545 in Hydra. It looked uncannily like a little triangle. Then, for a real challenge, I slewed to Abell 71. It compared favorably with spent coals, faintly glowing. Then, I tracked down M 47. It took me back to the first time I saw a little triangle.
After a short break to chat, I hunted for Abell 13 in Scorpius. It somewhat resembled the exhaust from a diesel Suburban.
After a short break to converse with an owl, I sought B 524. It seemed almost a smoke ring.
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 fetid Dingo's kidneys.