Three old black ladies, sisters, were sitting in the Airport Lounge getting ready to take a plane from San Francisco to New York, then across the ocean to Paris the next morning. None of them had ever flown before but they were all Wolf Blitzer fans and experienced onlookers when it came to plane crashes and survivors and bodies and rescue gore.
After several preparatory libations from the bar they all pretty much agreed that their bodies not being found at all was probably the worst outcome of any crash. That was even worse than the rescuers taking too long to find you and being just a minute too late to save you. They discussed this problem of body location at length. Their parents had been very wise and had named each of them according to the character they showed when adult, “Thoughtful, Critical, and Practical.”
After a period of silence, Thoughtful announced that finally she knew how to solve the problem. She said, “I don’t know about you all, girls, but me, I think we should wear some hot pink panties when we get on that plane.”
"Why would we want to do that?" the other two asked.
Thoughtful replied, "Because, if that plane goes down and we’re out there laying butt-up in a cornfield, they’re going to be looking for anything that stands out against a green cornfield background those pink panties should be a beacon to them.
“‘Why I never thought of it like that”, Critical said, “but I think the panties should be a fluorescent day-glow orange. They’d act just like yours in a land situation, but if we went down in the ocean at night, they would be no help at all. With fluorescent day-glow, any little bit of light would make our bums standout like the Christmas Star!”
Practical just snorted and then firmly stated, “When we get on that plane, none of us is going to be wearing any panties at all. Any damn fool knows that the first thing they’re going to be looking for is a big black box!”
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