AN E-MAIL FROM A FRIEND
Three strangers strike up a conversation in the air****t passenger lounge
in
Laramie, Wyoming while awaiting their respective flights.
One is an American Indian passing through from Riverton. Another is a
cowboy
on his way to Cheyenne for a livestock show and the third passenger is a
fundamentalist Arab student, newly arrived at the University of Wyoming
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," he sneers, "and now we are many. Why do you suppose that is?"
The Montana cowboy ****fts his toothpick to one side of his mouth and from
the darkness beneath his Stetson says in a smooth drawl, "That's 'cause we
ain't played Cowboys and Muslims yet, but I do believe it's a-comin'..."
*********
Dionysus
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