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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 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 -- 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'd he say?"
He said, "Where'd you get that shitty
hairdo?"
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