[telefonicagsxr]

At a small terminal in the Texas Panhandle, three
strangers are awaiting
their shuttle flight. One is a Native American
passing through from
Oklahoma. Another, a local ranch hand on his way
to Ft. Worth for a
stock show. The third passenger is an Arab
student, newly arrived from
the Middle East. To pass the time they strike up
a conversation on
recent events and the discussion drifts to their
diverse cultures.

Soon the Westerners learn that the Arab is a
devout Muslim. The
conversation falls into an uneasy lull. The
cowpoke leans back in his
chair, crosses his boots on a magazine table,
tips his big sweat-stained
hat forward over his face while the wind outside
blows tumbleweeds and
the old windsock flaps.

Finally, the Native American clears his throat
and softly, he speaks:
"Once my people were many, now we are few."

The 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 Texan shifts the toothpick to one side of his
mouth and from the
darkness beneath his Stetson says, "That's 'cause
we ain't played
Cowboys and Muslims yet."

[trackdog]