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A woman was at her hairdresser's getting her hair styled for a trip
to Rome with her boyfriend. She mentioned the trip to the
hairdresser, who responded, "Rome? Why would anyone want to go there?
It's crowded and dirty and full of Italians. You're crazy to go to
Rome. So, how are you getting there?"
"We're taking Continental," was the reply. "We got a great rate!"
"Continental!?" exclaimed the hairdresser. "That's a terrible
airline. Their planes are old, their flight attendants are ugly, and
they're always late. So, where are you staying in Rome?"
"We'll be at this exclusive little place over on Rome's Tiber River
called Teste."
"Don't go any further. I know that place. Everybody thinks it's
gonna be something special and exclusive, but it's really a dump, the
worst hotel in the city! The rooms are small, the service is surly,
and they're overpriced. So, whatcha doing when you get there?"
"We're going to go to see the Vatican and we hope to see the Pope."
"That's rich." laughed the hairdresser. "You and a million other
people trying to see him. He'll look the size of an ant. Boy, good
luck on this lousy trip of yours. You're going to need it."
A month later, the woman again came in for a hairdo. The
hairdresser asked her about her trip to Rome.
"It was wonderful." explained the woman, "Not only were we on time
in one of Continental's brand new planes, but it was overbooked and
they bumped us up to first class. The food and wine were wonderful,
and I had a handsome 28-year-old steward who waited on me hand and
foot. And the hotel was great! They'd just finished a $5 million
remodeling job, and now it's a jewel, the finest hotel in the city.
They, too, were overbooked, so they apologized and gave us their
owner's suite at no extra charge!"
"Well," muttered the hairdresser, "That's all well and good, but I
know you didn't get to see the Pope."
"Actually, we were quite lucky, because, as we toured the Vatican,
a Swiss Guard tapped me on the shoulder and explained that the Pope
likes to meet some of the visitors, and if I'd be so kind as to step
into his private room and wait, the Pope would personally greet me.
Sure enough, five minutes later, the Pope walked through the door and
shook my hand! I knelt down and he spoke a few words to me."
"Oh, really! What'd he say?"
He said, "Where'd you get the lousy hairdo?"
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