Some irony in this one...
Three strangers strike up a conversation in the passenger
One is a Lakota Sioux, a Lawyer, passing through
lounge at a small airport outside Bozeman , Montana .
to San Francisco from Lame Deer, another is a local
Cowboy on his way to Billings to attend a livestock auction, and the third is a fundamentalist Arab, newly arrived at Montana State University , an exchange student from Somalia, Africa .
They talk about the weather and soon, the two Westerners learn that the Arab is a devout Muslim, which is what all Arabs are, and the conversation falls into an uneasy lull.
The cowboy leans back in his chair, puts his legs up on the magazine table, crosses his boots on a copy of TIME with Obama on the cover, tips his big sweat-stained hat forward over his face, and lights a cigarette
The wind outside is blowing tumbleweeds around and the old windsock is flapping, the runway is empty; their connecting flight still has not arrived.
Finally, the Lawyer clears his throat and points out the window. He softly says, 'At one time my people lived here and our teepee's stretched from horizon to horizon,but now we are few.'
The son of Islam raises an eyebrow and leans forward,
'Once my people were few,' he says, 'and now we are here and we are many. Why do you suppose that is?'
The cowboy snuffs out his cigarette, tips back his hat, looks the Arab in the eye and softly says,
'I reckon that's because we ain't played Cowboys and Muslims yet, but I believe it's a comin.'
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