Yes, there are those know-nothing people who try their best to make life miserable. Read on.
A woman was at her hairdressers getting her hair 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 very dirty. You’re crazy to go to Rome. So, how are you getting there?”
“We’re taking Continental Airlines” was her reply. “We got a great round trip 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?”
“Well, we’ll be at this very exclusive little place over on Rome’s Tiber River called Teste.”
“Don’t go any further. I know the place. Everybody thinks it’s going to be something special and exclusive, but it’s really a first class dump, the worst hotel in all of Rome! The rooms are small, the service is surly and they are way overpriced. So whatcha doing when you get there?”
“We’re going to go to the Vatican and we hope to see the Pope.”
“Oh that’s rich” laughed the hairdresser. “You and a million other stupid people are trying to see him. He’ll look the size of an ant. Boy, oh boy, good luck on this lousy trip of yours. You’re going to need it.”
Another month later, the woman again came in for a hairdo. The hairdresser asked about her trip to Rome.
“It was really wonderful.” Explained the woman. “Not only were we on time in one of Continental’s brand new jets, but it was overbooked and they bumped us up to first class. The food and wine were truly wonderful, and I had a handsome twenty-eight year old steward who waited on me hand and foot. And the hotel was great! They’d just finished a five 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 the Pope’s private room and wait a few minutes, 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 did he say?”
The Pope said “Where’d you get that crappy hairdo?”
P.S. One of my favorite prayers: “Dear God, please give me the senility to forget the people I never liked anyway…the good fortune to run into the people I do like… and the eyesight to tell the difference. Amen.