Billy Golightly
09-22-2006, 09:07 PM
Three strangers strike up a conversation in the airport passenger
lounge in
Bozeman, Montana, waiting 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 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 in a drawl, "That's 'cause we
ain't
played Cowboys and Muslims yet, but I do believe it's a-comin."
:lol: :lol: :lol:
lounge in
Bozeman, Montana, waiting 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 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 in a drawl, "That's 'cause we
ain't
played Cowboys and Muslims yet, but I do believe it's a-comin."
:lol: :lol: :lol: