Join Date: Jan 2002
Location: Houston, TX. & Ft.Lauderdale, FL.
Three 'strangers' strike up a conversation in the airport passenger
lounge in Bozeman, Montana, awaiting their flights.
One is an American Indian passing through from Lame Deer.
Another is a Texas cowboy on his way to Billings for a livestock
show, and the third passenger is a 'fundamentalist' Arab student, newly
arrived at Montana State University from the Middle East.
Their discussion drifts to their diverse cultures. Soon, the two
Westerners learn that the Arab is a devout, radical Muslim, and the
conversation falls into an uneasy lull.
The cowboy leans back in his chair, crosses his boots on a magazine
table and tips his big sweat-stained hat forward over his face. The wind
outside is blowing tumbleweeds around, and the old windsock is flapping;
but still no plane comes.
Finally, the American Indian clears his throat
and softly he speaks, At one time here, my people
were many, but sadly, now we are few."
The Muslim student raises an eyebrow and leans forward, "Once my people
were few," he sneers, "and now we are many. Why do you suppose that is?"
The Texas cowboy shifts his toothpick to one side of his mouth, and
from the darkness beneath his Stetson says in a drawl,
"That's 'cause we ain't played Cowboys and Muslims yet,
but I do believe it's a-comin'."