Three strangers at the Bozeman airport are awaiting their flights. One is a Native American on his way to <?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com<st1lace w:st=" /><st1:City w:st="on"><st1lace w:st="on">Helena</st1lace></st1:City> for a statewide Indian Pow-Wow. Another a Cowboy on his way to Billings <st1:State w:st="on">Montana</st1:State> for a stock show. <st1lace w:st="[/IMG]<st1:City" Arial?>The third passenger is a fundamentalist Arab student, newly arrived, and on his way to study engineering at Montana Tech.</st1lace> <FONT face=Arial><st1lace w:st="[/IMG]<st1:City" Arial?> <?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-comhttp://www.survivalmonkey.com/forum/ /> <font face=" /> <FONT face=Arial>To pass the time they strike up a conversation on recent events, and the discussion drifts to their diverse cultures. <FONT face=Arial>Soon the westerners learn that the Arab is a devout radical Muslim, and believes his people are justified in their 'holy' war. <FONT face=Arial>The conversation falls into an uneasy lull. <FONT face=Arial> <FONT face=Arial>The cowpoke leans back in his chair, crosses his boots on a magazine table and tips his big sweat-stained hat forward over his face. <FONT face=Arial> <FONT face=Arial>The wind outside blows and blows and the old windsock flaps but no plane comes. <FONT face=Arial> <FONT face=Arial>Finally, the Native American clears his throat and softly he speaks:" Once, my people were many, now we are few." <FONT face=Arial> <FONT face=Arial>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?" <FONT face=Arial>The Cowboy shifts the toothpick to one side of his mouth and from the darkness beneath his Stetson Cowboy Hat says, "That's 'cause we ain't played Cowboys and Muslims yet boy." </st1lace>
