Let me tell y'all a story...
I knew a guy named, "Mike." He was the biggest brag, I mean, he'd been everywhere and done everything.
And he knew everyone.
So one day I tested him. "Mike," I asked him, "you know
so many famous people, maybe you could introduce me to some."
"Sure," said Mike. "I'm going over to Lance Armstrong's mansion tomorrow for a party after a long ride, just he and I."
"I've got him," I thought. I drove up to the property and pressed the call button on the front gate. There was no mistaking Lance Armstrong's place.
"Hello, Pete! Come on in, we are just cooling down!" I drove around back, and there they were! Lance and Mike, like old buddies!
A week later, I baited him, I guess out of spite. "Mike, there isn't anyone you don't know, is there? I bet you could even introduce me to the Pope."
"Ya, I could."
O.k., there I was, at the Vatican in a throng of faithful
worshippers. Mike said he would wave at me from the balcony, next to the Pope.
I woke up in the hospital.
"What happened, Pete?" asked my buddy, Mike.
"I guess my luck ran out. I was watching the Pope, and sure enough, there you were waving. I couldn't believe it. But things went black a moment later, when this little
Italian lady asked me, "Who's that up there with Mike?"