jig maker
New member
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 Texas 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 here," 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
'cause we ain't played Cowboys and Muslims yet, but I do believe
it's a-comin'."
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 Texas 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 here," 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
'cause we ain't played Cowboys and Muslims yet, but I do believe
it's a-comin'."
