A man had dreamt all his life of going to Rome. He told his friend, the local barber, all about it one day while having his hair cut.
"How will you get there?"
"I'm going on Alitalia."
"No-not them," said the barber, "They have a terrible reputation. Where will you stay?"
"At the Rome Hilton."
"Forget it," said his friend, "I hear their hotel there is abysmal. When you get there what will you do?"
"Why, I'm going to see the Pope."
"Come on. Who are you? You're not famous or well-known. Don't be ridiculous!"
A month later the man returned to get his hair cut again. "So, you never got to Rome, did you?"
"Oh, yes, I did! Alitalia was a wonderful airline. And the Hilton hotel was magnificent. And I did get to see the Pope."
"Well, what happened?" asked the barber anxiously.
"I bent down to kiss the Pope's ring."
"You're kidding! What did he say?"
He looked at me and said, "Son, where did you get that lousy haircut?"
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