The Constellation Aeronautica 
 
There's a spot in the San Francisco Bay Area that borders on the magical.  The event only lasts for about an hour, and only during the shorter days of the year, but when you see it, the only word that comes to mind is magical.  And, interestingly enough, there might very well be a similar spot near your own local large city.  It'd be a kick trying to track it down.  More on that later.
 
You drive up the foothills of the S.F. peninsula to a college parking lot right at dusk.  Spread out below you is a huge swath of Bay Area cities.
Directly behind you, miles away on the top of a peak, is a VOR beacon for aircraft.  They zero in on it from hundreds of miles away.
The commercial airliners heading for the S.F. airport from the northern cities like Seattle, Portland and Reno first make a beeline for somewhere over northern California, then turn directly toward the VOR signal.
And you.
The lights on commercial airliners are just ungodly bright when you look directly at them.  You can see them from miles and miles away.  But only if they're pointing directly at you.
So now you have an airliner miles and miles away flying directly toward you, its headlights looking like an unwavering star in the nighttime sky.
And then another one directly behind it.  And another.  And another.
Since they're all flying directly at you, it's as if the 'stars' never move.  But slowly, over the minutes, as the planes slightly alter their altitude and position, the pattern the stars make...
changes.
For minutes on end, the four or five planes might make a diamond pattern, then slowly, like watching the minute hand of a clock, they'll dissolve into a square or rectangle or pyramid.
It's like a living constellation of stars.
I call it the Constellation Aeronautica.

It only lasts for an hour or so; right after dusk falls so you can see the planes' lights, and only during the rush hour (5 to 6 pm) so enough planes will be packed together to make the display.  And it only works during the shorter days of the year.  The rest of the year it doesn't get dark until after the rush hour is over.
I remember watching it while listening to the World Series on the car radio for a number of years (it got to be a tradition), which would have been near the end of October, so figure it only lasting from late October through February.
You could certainly try other lookout points in the area, but I can only guarantee it'll work from this one particular spot.  If you move too far to the side and get out of the path of the VOR beacon, the whole illusion would fall apart.
Directions:
Get on highway 280 (runs up and down the peninsula) and head for Redwood City.  Take Farm Hill Blvd and then bear to your left and enter Cañada College.
You'll go up a steep hill and then turn to the right on a one-way road.  While the first big parking lot to your right is okay, I'd suggest the second one.  Pull over to the right side and right up to the edge facing straight outward, like so:
In the above pic, the base of the arrow is about where your car would be parked, with the arrow pointing (approximately) toward the event.
To find a similar spot near your own local (large) airport would be a fun challenge.  For starters, it has to be a big enough airport that there'd be four or five planes lined up during rush hour.  The idea would be to dig up a map of the VOR and flight paths and then literally draw a line between them and find a lookout point on the same bearing.  I suppose you'd start outside the actual airport and note the direction the bulk of the planes are coming from, then grab the map and plot your line.  Except for the 'hubs', most airports probably have one or two main directions from which they're approached.  There might be a number of VORs in the area so the trick would be to find out which one is being used by the commercial airliners.
Then drive to your secret spot.
As dusk falls, you'll look down near the horizon and you'll see a few stars that are slightly brighter than the surrounding stars.  The few stars become a cluster of four or five, slowly dissolving from one geometric pattern into another.
Like living stars.
Behold, the Constellation Aeronautica.