Re: Three strangers strike up a conversation in the airport passenger Lounge...


Taylor wrote:
...in Bozeman, Montana, awaiting their flights. One is an American Indian
passing through from
Lame Deer. Another is a 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 wind outside is blowing
tumbleweeds
around and the old windsock is flapping; but still no plane comes. 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.

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 Montana 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."

My heroes have always killed cowboys.

.

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