Picture this: Your day is going spectacularly well, so you decide to hit the salon for a fresh hairdo before your big trip to Rome. Enter Linda, your hairdresser whose charm rivals that of a porcupine on a bad day. What could possibly go wrong?
As you slip into the salon chair and mention your upcoming adventure to the eternal city, Linda’s face curdles like milk left out on a summer’s day. “Rome? Who in their right mind wants to go there? It’s nothing but crowds and grime! You’ve lost it,” she sneers.
You respond with the grace of a gazelle’s leap. “We’re flying with Continental – got an amazing deal!” you chirp. Linda replies with a snort worthy of an emphysema survivor. “Continental? That’s the airline of nightmares! The planes are relics, the staff look like they’ve crawled out of a horror film, and they’re never on time. Where are you staying, a cardboard box?”
“No, Linda,” you calmly retort, “We’re booked at this exclusive spot on the Tiber called Teste.” But Linda, undeterred, sharpens her verbal blades. “Teste? It’s just a fancy name for a flea-ridden flop house!”
Feigning disbelief, you counter casually, “We’re also planning to see the Vatican and maybe even the Pope!” Linda’s derisive laughter could deflate even the bounciest of balloons. “The Pope? Sure, you and every other wide-eyed tourist! He’ll wave from a distance, like a spot on a ladybug.”
The trip happens, and a month later, with your coiffure needing a touch-up, you saunter back towards Linda’s lair of negativity. Today, though, you’re armed with the sweetest weapon: Truth wrapped in a bow.
With a flash of curiosity and perhaps a sprinkle of dread, Linda asks about Rome. You light up to recount, “The journey was magical! We flew in a brand-new Continental jet, and the overbooking was a blessing! First class, with champagne served by a stunning 28-year-old flight attendant.”
Linda’s jaw drops to somewhere near her stylishly orthopedic shoes. You continue, “The hotel? Incredible! A $5 million renovation, and due to another overbooking miracle, we stayed in the opulent owner’s suite free of charge!” That ought to silence Linda’s unending critique, right? Well… almost.
In a last-ditch grab for the snark-crown, Linda mumbles, “Sure, the Pope must have been a no-show for you.” This, dear readers, is when the universe decided to hand you the mic.
“Actually,” you say, leaning in with the glowing joy of someone who’s found the last parking spot, “we were specially invited by a Swiss Guard to meet His Holiness in person! And the Pope himself walked in, shook my hand, and we had a chat!”
Linda, her face now resembling a marble statue in its perfect stillness, can barely manage a, “And what did he say?”
“He asked me: ‘Who screwed up your hair?’”
Image Source: PexelsWith that, Linda had nothing left but a stunned silence, pierced only by the victorious music of your mind. So, next time you’re embracing a new adventure and facing a Linda of your own, hold tight to your fabulous journey. Remember, the only laughs that matter are the ones you get to have as you walk out with a story worthy of regal company.
