The sky is falling.

Unrelated note: I just read a report in Variety about a new film that will co-star Steve Carell and Tina Fey as a married couple. Even though the comedy won't go into production until next year, I'm pretty excited about it. The Office and 30 Rock are two of my favorite television shows, and putting Steve and Tina together ought to produce much hilarity.

Now to the matter at hand. I have been an avid stargazer for some time. There is just something about lying beneath a sky full of tiny specks of light that encourages reflection and introspection. Unfortunately, I haven't been able to do it as frequently as I would like. Being a busy college student surely didn't help things. It was much easier to do in high school; it was much easier to get out of Vernal and find somewhere away from lights than it is for me in Provo.

Every August the Perseids meteor shower takes place. When I received a Facebook event invitation informing me of the dates of the shower, I immediately responded that I would be attending. Last year I watched the shower up above Sundance, and it was really cool. Years before I had watched it from a fabulous spot overlooking Vernal. I've always had really good experiences with the Perseids meteor shower; there have always been plenty of meteors streaking across the sky, often leaving behind brilliant but short-lived trails.

A group of us here decided to watch the meteor shower Tuesday night after watching The Burbs. When the movie ended and I stepped outside, I was immediately frustrated to see the sky covered in clouds. Not a single star was visible, and that didn't bode well for our stargazing enterprise. I knew the peak time wouldn't occur until after the moon set sometime around 2 a.m., but with the cloud cover, I didn't know if we'd ever get to see any meteors at all.

Poor weather aside, there was other cause for concern. The choice of location is essential to the quality of the experience. Getting away from any light is a must, but you (assuming everyone thinks like me) also don't want to be somewhere where lots of other people also are. I was informed that the group was planning to go up Provo Canyon somewhere, eventually choosing Vivian Park and then South Fork. I figured that quite a few people would head up Provo Canyon, making our chances of finding a good location less likely. I was prepared to go the extra mile to make this occasion worthwhile, even if that meant burning my gasoline to do so. Well, people chose their vehicles and drivers, and I ended up driving ("I drive a Dodge Stratus!") because, to be quite honest, I wasn't feeling all that enthusiastic about the whole ordeal. I knew I'd need some help bringing back the good vibes because I was in need of a satisfying experience. As I told my former and future (but not present) roommate Joel on Facebook chat earlier that day, I would not tolerate failure.

So with my passengers, Dave and Trisha, I set off on the adventure, but we didn't head up Provo Canyon, at least not at first. I needed a slurpee so I went and got one. 7-11 currently has a gatorade flavor, and it is fantastic. Give it a try. Once we had slurpees we finally embarked up Provo Canyon. Right as we arrived at South Fork to join the others, a Utah County Sheriff told us the park was closed. Lousy 11 p.m. curfews. He said we could try the Squaw Peak overlook, but doubted we'd find any spots up there. This was pretty much the type of setback I was expecting in Provo Canyon. Call it pessimism or a premonition, but it seemed my qualms about going up Provo Canyon were well-founded. We tried to come to a consensus among the group, but nothing was happening. None of us in my car wanted to try Squaw Peak so we decided to go to Hobble Creek Canyon, my initial preference.

No one else wanted to join us so we began our drive to Hobble Creek Canyon, back through Provo, getting stopped at too many red lights for that time of night. We made our way to the canyon and stopped at our usual stopping place, not to stargaze, but to boogie. I cranked the music and a mini-rave was held. It had been nearly a month since I'd been there, and I couldn't drive past the spot without dancing. Once we were done grooving, we continued up the canyon. I didn't have a specific spot in mind, but I knew from a prior drive that we wouldn't have difficulty finding someplace open to look up at the stars - if the clouds ever dispersed.

We soon left the concrete and began trekking up the dirt road, winding our way gradually up the canyon, higher and higher. I've only seen the area at night, but I imagine it must be quite beautiful during the day. (Note to self: make the drive during the day sometime). As we were driving I told Dave and Trisha that the perfect spot would manifest itself, and eventually it did. We found a path where we could pull off the road some forty feet into a little clearing. I parked the car, and we spread a blanket on the ground and began looking up at...the clouds. We could see a few stars, the bright ones whose light could penetrate the thinner clouds. We still had some time until the moon set and its light ceased to light up the clouds and make our goal of seeing meteors more difficult.

We lay for awhile, watching as the clouds passed overhead and the sky gradually opened up before our eyes. There were times when we thought we saw very faint shooting stars, but nothing that we were sure about. Then suddenly we all saw a streak of light, unmistakably a meteor. I jumped to my feet and raised my triumphant fists into the air. Despite the difficulties we experienced, the hassle and the clouds and all that, our sacrifice had paid off. We had seen a meteor, and that filled us with joy. The whole time we were driving and worrying about the cloud cover, we kept stating, "As long as we can see one meteor, it will be worth it." And during the aftermath of that first meteor, it was truly worth it. We were vindicated and excited to see more.

The moon set and the clouds dispersed from overhead. Things were falling perfectly into place, and the meteors continued to flash through the sky. It was really cool because as I looked to what I thought was the north, back toward Provo, I could still see clouds in the distance. I wanted to believe that we were lucky enough to have come to the right place, one of the few places then without clouds, and were graced with an open sky and an unobstructed view of the celestial show.

I was (and still am) grateful for my stubbornness and refusal to accept failure that night. I had to see the meteor shower and was committed to doing whatever was necessary for that to happen. Maybe it was only luck that the clouds dispersed, but I like to think that it was more than that. We did our part, we sacrificed our time and sleep, we went the extra mile, and I want to believe that we were rewarded for that effort. Either way, we got to see a meteor shower, and it was well worth the effort required - even getting home at 4 a.m. and going to work a few hours later.

I look forward to seeing the Perseids meteor shower next year, although who knows where I will be next August. I'm sure it will be another adventure.