It was my last week with the proteges.
I knew that I had to pull out some sort of "Eliza at the Ball" magic in order to win my bet with Brad.
The important thing was remembering what the overall improvement needed to be with Aaron: Bold.
I needed to make him more bold.
When I met him, he was sitting in the corner watching the parade go by--I needed to make him the parade.
Which brings me to--
AARON: No way.
ME: Aaron, this is the last thing I will ever ask of you. If you can do this, you can do anything.
I had driven with Aaron for over an hour to New Hampshire, where a large Pro-Gay Rights rally was going on complete with--you guessed it--a parade.
AARON: So I'm going to walk in this parade.
ME: Walk is such a passive word.
ME: You're out in front with the baton.
AARON: But I don't know how to--
ME: Before you say anything, I'd like to bring your attention to this--
After raiding his room one night while he was in the kitchen trying to pry pasta from a non-stick pot, I found his yearbook.
ME: I believe twirling happens to be your forte, Mr. A.
AARON: You're an evil man.
ME: Time to grab life by the batons, kid.
An hour later, I was on the sidelines, waiting for my boy to lead the band.
And there he was--
It was a sight to behold. Aaron in his old high school uniform (a little tighter on him, let's not lie) standing straight up, smiling, and twirling like a Texas cheerleader.
I didn't see a scared wallflower anymore. I saw a star.
ME: Hello Brad?
BRAD: Talk louder. I'm going through a tunnel--of inebriation.
ME: All you need to hear is this--
I held out the phone so he could hear the crowd cheer.
One transformation down, three to go.