A woman was at her hairdresser's getting her hair
styled for a trip to Rome. 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 Air Italy," was the reply. "We got a
great rate!"
"Air Italy?" exclaimed the woman's 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 its 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 Air Italy's brand new planes, but it
was overbooked and they upgraded us 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 did you get that s***ty hairdo?"
styled for a trip to Rome. 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 Air Italy," was the reply. "We got a
great rate!"
"Air Italy?" exclaimed the woman's 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 its 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 Air Italy's brand new planes, but it
was overbooked and they upgraded us 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 did you get that s***ty hairdo?"
