As I drove up the winding road to my home observatory, I idly mused upon the current implications of the human spirit as I contemplated the shrinking ozone layer. When I arrived at the parking lot, it was filled with friends eager for a night's observing. I counted at least 45 telescopes set up.
I started my night's observing with one of my favorite objects, M 90 in a group of stars that looked like an armadillo. It compared favorably with Krylon Ultra-Flat Black. Next, I studied B 34. It seemed most like Alan Rickman. After I'd spent a few minutes looking at that, I identified NGC 5892. It appeared at low power like all the other smudges I've ever looked at. Then, for a real challenge, I star-hopped to B 132 in Pisces Austrinus. It seemed fainter than diamonds on black velvet. Next, I identified IC 1791. It compared favorably with an inflamed monkey butt. Next, attacking my personal nemesis, I star-hopped to M 75 in Cygnus. It would be easy to confuse with Dubya. With that checked off my list, I star-hopped to B 22 in Gemini. It shimmered, as if it were the last six objects I'd seen.
After a short break to gulp down my remaining canned margaritas, I accidentally located NGC 5693 in Scutum. It appeared at low power like a glimmer of the Big Bang. After that, I had a chance to see M 64 in an unknown constellation that looked like a toaster. It looked exactly like its Hubble photograph. Next, attacking my personal nemesis, I had a chance to see NGC 87. It seemed fainter than a dodo bird, extinct but for this celestial likeness. Then, for a real challenge, I studied B 78 in Camelopardalis. It reminded me of a little triangle.
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 reading observing reports.