A woman was at her hairdresser’s getting styled for a trip to Rome with her husband. She mentioned the trip to the hairdresser, who responded:
“Rome? Why would anyone want to go there? It’s crowded and dirty. You’re crazy to go to Rome. So, how are you getting there?”
“We’re taking Continental and we got a great rate!”
“Continental?” exclaimed the hairdresser. “That’s a terrible airline. Their planes are old, their flight attendants are rude, and they’re always late. So, where are you staying in Rome?”
“We’ll be at this exclusive little place close to the 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. They must have used a wide angled lens to photograph the rooms.”
“We’re definitely going to see the Vatican and maybe even get to see the Pope.”
“That’s rich,” laughed the hairdresser. “You and a million other people. You will be so far away, he will look the size of an ant. Good luck on this lousy trip. You’re going to need it.”
A month later, the woman again came in for a hairdo. The Hairdresser asked her about the trip
.
“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 terrific. I had a handsome 28-year-old steward who waited on me hand and foot…and the hotel was great too! They’d just finished a €5 million remodelling job, and now it’s a jewel, the finest hotel in the city. Because is was our anniversary, they gave us the 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: “Who f****d up your hair?”
“Rome? Why would anyone want to go there? It’s crowded and dirty. You’re crazy to go to Rome. So, how are you getting there?”
“We’re taking Continental and we got a great rate!”
“Continental?” exclaimed the hairdresser. “That’s a terrible airline. Their planes are old, their flight attendants are rude, and they’re always late. So, where are you staying in Rome?”
“We’ll be at this exclusive little place close to the 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. They must have used a wide angled lens to photograph the rooms.”
“We’re definitely going to see the Vatican and maybe even get to see the Pope.”
“That’s rich,” laughed the hairdresser. “You and a million other people. You will be so far away, he will look the size of an ant. Good luck on this lousy trip. You’re going to need it.”
A month later, the woman again came in for a hairdo. The Hairdresser asked her about the trip
.
“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 terrific. I had a handsome 28-year-old steward who waited on me hand and foot…and the hotel was great too! They’d just finished a €5 million remodelling job, and now it’s a jewel, the finest hotel in the city. Because is was our anniversary, they gave us the 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: “Who f****d up your hair?”
