The Opinionated Barber
A man was getting a haircut before a trip to Rome and mentioned the trip to his barber 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 American Airlines,” was his reply. “We got a great rate!”
“American Airlines?” exclaimed the barber. “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 the downtown International Marriott.”
“That dump! That’s 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 barber. “You and a million other people trying to see him. You’ll be at the back of St Peter’s Square and from that distance 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 man returned for another haircut and the barber asked him about his trip to Rome.
“It was quite wonderful,” explained the man. “Not only were we on time in one of American Airline’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 beautiful 28-year-old stewardess who waited on me hand and foot. And the hotel was great! They’d just finished a $25 million remodeling job and now it’s the finest hotel in the city. They, too, were overbooked, so they apologized and gave us the presidential suite at no extra charge!”
“Well,” muttered the barber, “I know you didn’t get to see the Pope.”
“As it turned out, we were quite lucky, for as we toured the Vatican, a Swiss Guard tapped me on the shoulder and explained that from time to time the pope likes to personally 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 as he spoke a few words to me.”
“Really?” asked the Barber. “What did he say?”
Well, the first words out of his mouth were, “Where did you get the shitty haircut?”