A woman was at her hairdresser’s, getting her hair styled before a trip to Rome with her husband. She mentioned her upcoming vacation, and the hairdresser responded:

“Rome? Why would anyone want to go there? It’s overcrowded and filthy. You’re out of your mind. So, how are you getting there?”

“We’re flying United,” the woman replied. “We got a great deal on the tickets!”

“United?” the hairdresser scoffed. “That airline is a disaster. Their planes are ancient, the flight attendants are grumpy, and they’re always late. So, where are you staying in Rome?”

“We’ll be at a little place called Taste, right by the Tiber River.”

“Don’t bother! I know that place. Everyone thinks it’s fancy, but it’s a dump.”

“We’re also planning to visit the Vatican and maybe even see the Pope.”

“Ha! You and a million other tourists. You’ll barely see him. He’ll look like a speck from where you’re standing. Good luck with that awful trip of yours!”

A month later, the woman returned to the salon for another hairdo. The hairdresser asked about her trip.

“It was amazing!” the woman said. “We flew on one of United’s brand-new planes, and it was overbooked, so they bumped us up to first class! The food and wine were fabulous, and we had a handsome 28-year-old steward who pampered us the whole flight.”

“And the Taste hotel?” the hairdresser asked, skeptical.

“It was incredible! They’d just finished a $5 million renovation, and it was gorgeous. It was the best hotel in the city. They were overbooked, so they upgraded us to the owner’s suite at no extra charge!”

“Well, that’s all nice and good, but I’m sure you didn’t get to see the Pope.”

“Actually, we were lucky. While touring the Vatican, a Swiss Guard tapped me on the shoulder and said the Pope likes to meet a few visitors. He invited me into his private room to wait, and sure enough, five minutes later, the Pope walked in and shook my hand.”

“Wow, that’s incredible! What did he say?”

“He looked at me and said, ‘Who messed up your hair?””