A man is getting his hair cut. "It's been four weeks since you came in, where have you been?" the barber asks.

"I went to Rome with my wife."

"Italy?" the barber scoffs. "It costs a fortune to fly there, and the seats are so cramped."

"On the contrary," said the man, "we got $250 round-trip fares off the Internet, and got bumped up to First Class because they overbooked coach."

"Well," said the barber, "what hotel did you stay in?"

"The Rome Hilton," said the man.

"What a dump!" the barber cried. "Lousy service and the food is worse."

"As a matter of fact," replied the man, "the hotel had just been renovated for ten million dollars. The service and meals were superb, and they upgraded us to the presidential suite because of a minor computer glitch at no extra cost."

"Hmmpph," the barber grunted. "I guess you tried to see the pope, too. With those big crowds, he probably looked like a tiny speck."

"You'll find this hard to believe," said the man, "but while we were walking in Saint Peter's Square, a Swiss Guardsman tapped me on the shoulder, and said the Holy Father wanted to treat us to lunch. Apparently, the pope likes to do this with pilgrims every once in a while. We got a whole tour of the Vatican, saw his private apartment, and of course, the lunch with the Holy Father was simply wonderful."

The barber laughed. "Incredible. You lucky dog. I bet there were a lot of other pilgrims there."

"Nope. Just me and my wife," said the man.

"Well, he didn't talk to you, did he?" the barber said doubtfully. "What would the pope have to say to a guy like you."

"In fact, he did talk to me, in English," said the man. "As we were leaving, he shook my hand, thanked me for our company, and then he asked me something I'll never forget for as long as I live."

"And what was that?" asked the barber.

"He wanted to know where I got my lousy haircut."