Three strangers strike up a conversation in the airport passenger
Lounge in Midland, Texas, awaiting their flights. One is an American
Indian
passing through from Lame Deer. Another is a Cowboy on his way to Houston
for a livestock show and the third passenger is a fundamentalist Arab
student, newly arrived at TSU from the Mid 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 West Texas cowboy shifts his toothpick to one side of his mouth
and from the darkness beneath his Stetson says in a drawl, "That's
'causewe ain't played Cowboys and Muslims yet, but I do believe it's
a-comin'."

*************