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 Airlines," 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 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.  Good luck on this 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 that shitty
hairdo?"