A woman was at her hairdresser’s, getting her hair styled for a trip to Rome with her husband.
She mentioned the trip, and the hairdresser 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 BA,” the woman replied. “We got a great rate!”
“BA?” scoffed 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 on the Tiber River called Teste.”
“Don’t go any further. I know that place. Everybody thinks it’s special and exclusive, but it’s really a dump.”
“We’re going to the Vatican, and maybe we’ll even see the Pope.”
“That’s rich,” laughed the hairdresser. “You and a million other people trying to see him. You’ll be lucky if you even catch a glimpse. Good luck on this lousy trip of yours—you’re going to need it.
A month later, the woman returned for another hairdo. The hairdresser asked her about the trip.
“It was wonderful,” explained the woman. “Not only were we on time in one of BA’s brand-new planes, but it was overbooked, and they bumped us up to first class. The food and wine were amazing, and I had a handsome 28-year-old steward who waited on me hand and foot.
“And the hotel? Incredible! They had just finished a £5 million remodeling job, and now it’s the finest hotel in the city. They were overbooked too, so they apologized and gave us the owner’s suite at no extra charge!
“And the Vatican was unforgettable. As we toured, a Swiss Guard tapped me on the shoulder and explained that the Pope liked to meet a few visitors. If I would kindly wait in his private room, the Pope would personally greet me. Sure enough, five minutes later, the Pope walked in, shook my hand, I knelt down, and he even spoke a few words to me!”
“Oh, really!” gasped the hairdresser. “What did he say?”
The woman smiled.
“He said: Who the f** did your hair?*”
