Cowboys And Muslims

Cowboys And Muslims:

Three passengers at the Great Falls, Montana, International airport are awaiting their flight.

One is a Native American who is traveling with a friend who is a ranch hand. The Native American and the Cowboy are on their way to Billings for a Stock Show.

The third passenger is a fundamentalist Arab student, newly arrived in the U.S. and here on a Student Visa. He's on his way to study engineering at Montana Tech.

To pass the time they strike up a conversation on recent events, and the discussion drifts to their diverse cultures. Since its recently been the anniversary of 9-11, the conversation moves over to what happened that day.

Soon the Westerners learn that the Arab is a devout radical Muslim, and yes, he believes Muslims are justified in murdering everyone who is not Muslim.

The Native American and the Cowboy look at each other with a combination of disbelief and a desire to string him up. The conversation falls into an uneasy lull.

The Native American is a former Marine and Veteran of the Iraq War. He'd obviously like to teach the Muslim student a lesson. His cowpoke friend 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 blows and blows and the old windsock flaps but no plane comes.

Finally, the Native American has an idea and clears his throat before softly saying, "Once, my people were many, now we are few."

The radical Muslim 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 Cowboy shifts the toothpick to one side of his mouth and from the darkness beneath his Stetson, he says, "That's 'cause we ain't played Cowboys and Muslims yet boy. But it's a com'n boy, you can bet on that!"