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The Haircut

A man went to his barber to get a haircut before he left on
a trip to Rome. He was telling his barber about the trip
when the barber said, "Rome? Why would anyone go there?
It's crowded and dirty! So, how are you getting there?"
"We're flying on TWA," the man told him.
"TWA?" exclaimed the barber. "That's a terrible choice! The
planes are old and the flight attendants are ugly. Where
are you staying in Rome?"
"Oh, we're at the downtown Marriott."
"What? That dump with its overpriced rooms and poor
service? Well, what are you doing when you get there?" the
barber griped.
"Going to the Vatican and we hope to see the Pope."
"Yeah? Well good luck. A million people want to see the
Pope. You'll never get close. But good luck to you. You'll
probably need it." Finishing the cut, the barber handed him
his coat.
A month later, the man was back for another cut. The barber
asked about the trip to Rome. "Oh, it was wonderful. We
were on a brand new plane and it was so overcrowded we got
bumped to first class, where a beautiful young stewardess
waited on us hand and foot. And the hotel was fantastic!
They had just finished remodeling and were overbooked, so
they gave us the presidential suite at no extra charge!
"Well, I know you didn't get to see the Pope," the surly
barber grumbled.
"Oh, but we did!" the man exclaimed. "We toured the Vatican
and were chosen to personally meet the Pope! I actually
knelt down as he spoke a few words to me!"
"Really?" the barber wondered, impressed despite himself.
"What did he say?"

"He said, 'Where'd you get that lousy haircut?'"

 

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