This thread reminded me of a story I heard and thought I would share:
Something to think about when a negative person is trying to rain on your parade. We all know one.
A New York woman was at her hairdresser's on Park Avenue getting her hair styled prior to a trip to Rome with her boyfriend. She mentions the trip to her hairdresser, who responded.
Rome! Why would anyone want to go to there? It's crowded, dirty and full of Italians. Your crazy to go to Rome. So how are you getting there?
We're taking Continental, was the reply. We got a great rate.
Continental! exclaimed the hairdresser, that's a terrible airline. Their planes are old, their flight attendents are ugly and they're always late.
So where are you staying in Rome?
We'll be at this exclusive little place over on Rome's left bank called Teste.
Don't go any further, I know that place. Everybody thinks its gonna be something special and exclusive, but its really a dump, the worst hotel in the city. The rooms are small, the service is bad and they're overpriced.
So, whatcha doing when you get there?
We're going to the Vatican and hope we see the Pope.
That's rich laughed the hairdresser. You and a million other people trying to see him, he'll look the size of an ant. Boy, good luck on this lousy trip of yours, you're going to need it.
A month later the womem again comes in for a hairdo. The hairdresser asked her about her trip to Rome.
It was wonderful explained the women, not only were we on time in one of Continental's brand new planes, but it was overbooked and they bumped us up to first class. The food and wine were wonderful, and I had a handsome 28 year old steward who waited on me hand and foot. And the hotel, it was great! They'd just finished a $5 million remodeling job and now it's a jewel, the finest hotel in the city. They too were overbooked so they apologized and gave us their most expensive suite at no extra charge.
Well muttered the hairdresser, that's all well and good, but I know you didn't see the Pope.
Actually we were quite lucky because as we toured the Vatican, a Swiss Guard tapped me on the shoulder and explained that the Pope likes to meet some of the visitors and if I'd be so kind as to step into his private room and wait, the Pope would personally greet me. Sure enough five minutes later, the Pope walked through the door and shook my hand! I knelt down and he spoke a few words to me.
Oh really, what'd he say? the hairdresser enquired.
He said "Where'd you get that crappy hairdo?"