frodo
Senior Member
- Joined
- Aug 5, 2008
- Messages
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Three
strangers strike up a conversation in the airport lounge in
Bozeman , Montana , awaiting their flights. One is an American Indian,
passing thru from Lame Deer. Another is a cowboy on his way to
Billings for a livestock show. And the third is a fundamentalist Arab
student from the Middle East, newly arrived at Montana State
University .
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
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'".
strangers strike up a conversation in the airport lounge in
Bozeman , Montana , awaiting their flights. One is an American Indian,
passing thru from Lame Deer. Another is a cowboy on his way to
Billings for a livestock show. And the third is a fundamentalist Arab
student from the Middle East, newly arrived at Montana State
University .
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
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'".
