The Pope arrives in New York and steps into his limousine. As they start driving, he leans forward and asks the chauffeur, “Would you mind if I took the wheel for a bit?”
The driver hesitates—after all, it’s the Pope—but reluctantly agrees. “Of course, Your Holiness.”
So the Pope eagerly swaps seats with the driver and takes off. It’s been years since he last drove, and it shows. He’s weaving through traffic, speeding, and making reckless turns until, inevitably, flashing lights appear in the rearview mirror.
A police officer approaches the driver’s window but stops in his tracks. Without saying a word, he quickly turns around, walks back to his patrol car, and radios his partner.
“I think I just pulled over someone really, really important.”
His partner asks, “Who is it? The mayor?”
“Bigger.”
“The governor?”
“Bigger.”
“Wait… don’t tell me—it’s the president?!”
The officer shakes his head. “I have no idea who it is. But whoever it is has the Pope as his chauffeur!”