Aaron had made a reservation two days prior to his trip to Petit Paris, and he had been approved, which was as rare a living room couch sprouting wings, and flying away. Luckily, the concierge in his appartment building knew how to play it, and he had bumped a few, less important people off the waiting list. He had hired a limo for the evening. He couldn't show up to the most socially demanding resteraunt in the city, in anything less than a limo. He had even gone so far as to have an Armani suit, custom tailored for the occasion. The tailor had spent just about 48 hours straight in order to have his suit ready on time.

The limo pulled up infront of the resteraunt, and the driver ran around to open the door for him. He stepped out into the light of the city, and walked briskly to the front of the line. Careful not to make his step too haughty, for if he was turned away, his ego would be severely bruised. Fortunately, the doorman had been informed that he was coming tonight, and he was admitted promptly.

He was seated at his small table, sipping his favorite Chateau Margaux, waiting for his appetizer of Beluga caviar to come. He set down his wine glass, and checked his Rolex. He sighed angrily, it had been 45 minutes since he ordered, and he had been ignored after ordering.

He waved, rather rudely to a small bus-boy, and was pleased when he jumped, and practically ran to his table.

''Is there anything I can get for you, sir,'' the boy whispered.

He must be nervous, thought Aaron.

He drew himself up to his full height, and said, in his snobbiest voice possible, ''You may tell someone important that I am not impressed, and I demand an appearance.'' He was practically yelling by the time he had ended his little tirade on the young man. People were sticking their noses into the air, and gossiping about him, and his lack of manners. He couldn't have cared less.