OCBob
VIPER POWERED
Three strangers strike up a conversation in the airport passenger lounge
in Bozeman, Montana, awaiting 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 wind outside is
blowing tumbleweeds around and the old windsock is flapping; but still no
plane comes. 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.
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."
in Bozeman, Montana, awaiting 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 wind outside is
blowing tumbleweeds around and the old windsock is flapping; but still no
plane comes. 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.
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."
