The Haircut

Old Crusty was getting a haircut prior to a trip to Rome. He mentioned the trip to the barber who responded, “Rome? Why would anyone want to go there? It’s crowded, dirty and full of Italians. You’re crazy to go to Rome. So, how are you getting there?”

“We’re taking TWA,” Crusty replied. “We got a great rate!”

“TWA?” 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,” Crusty answered.

“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?” responded the barber.

Crusty answered, “We’re going to go 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. 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, Crusty again came in for his regular haircut. The barber asked him about his trip to Rome.

“It was wonderful,” exclaimed Crusty, “not only were we on time in one of TWA’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 had just finished a $25 million remodeling project 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.”

“Actually, we were quite lucky, for as we toured the Vatican, a Swiss Guard tapped me on the shoulder and explained that the Pope likes to personally meet some of the visitors, and asked me if I’d be so kind as to step into his private room and wait for the Pope would personally greet me. Sure enough, five minutes later the Pope walked through the door and shook my hand! I knelt down as he spoke a few words to me,” Crusty told the barber.

“Really?” asked the barber. “What’d he say?”

Crusty answered, “Where’d you get the lousy haircut?”

Keep your fork

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