A guy has lived in New York all of his life. He is Italian; lives in an Italian neighborhood and is a devout catholic. He goes into the neighborhood barber shop and (when his turn comes) says to the barber, “Gimme the best you’ve got. Next week, I’m taking my family to Rome!”
The barber, being an expert (as all barbers are) says, “That’s the dumbest thing I ever heard! Rome is a filthy city. The mafia runs it — you’ll be robbed. The weather there is hot and muggy this time of the year. If you’re planning to see the pope, forget it! From where you’ll be standing in Vatican square, he’ll look like an ant!”
The guy says, “well, we’re going anyway. We have tickets on United Air lines.”
The barber says, “United air lines!? You must be kidding. They’re always late. They lose luggage, their food is terrible!”
The guy says, “Well, give me your best shot, because — Rome, here I come!”
Two weeks pass and he comes back into the barber shop. Naturally the barber, and all the barber shop loafers want to know how his trip went. The guy says, “It was wonderful! United served a gourmet dinner, with champagne for me and the missus. We arrived almost an hour early. Our luggage was at our hotel when we arrived. The weather was cool and refreshing. My wife and I fell in love all over again.
“We went to the Vatican to see the pope and were pretty far back. There were thousands of people. The next thing I knew, we were surrounded by a group of vatican guards who took my entire family inside and into a quiet anteroom. As we were wondering what we could have done, the pope himself came in and asked us to join him for lunch. After lunch, I couldn’t stand it any longer and so I asked, ‘Your Holiness, why did you single us out of all those people?’ A great look of sadness passed over the pontif’s face and he said, ‘Because I feel so sorry for you, my son. That’s the worst haircut I’ve ever seen!'”
