A New York woman was at her hairdresser's on Park
Avenue getting her
hair
styled prior to 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 & 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 left bank
called
Teste....."
"Don't go any further. I know that place. Everybody
thinks its going to
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, what are you 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 young steward who waited on me hand and foot.
And the hotel -
it
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 did he say?"
He said, "Where'd you get the lousy hairdo?" :-)