Cowboys and Indians

Rating

 Three strangers strike up a conversation in the airport  lounge in Bozeman, Montana, awaiting their flights.  One  is an American Indian passing through from Lame Deer.  The second is a Cowboy   on his way to a livestock show. The third passenger is an Arab   college  student, newly arrived from the Middle East. Their   discussion drifts to their  diverse cultures. Soon, the two Americans   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 Montana cowboy shifts his toothpick to one side   of his mouth and, from the darkness beneath his Stetson  says,   "That's cause we ain't played Cowboys and Muslims yet, but I do believe it's  a-comin!".