One For The Homeboys!

Three strangers strike up a conversation in the airport passenger lounge in Bozeman, Montana while awaiting their respective flights. One is an American Indian passing through from Lame Deer. Another is a cowboy on his way to Billings for a livestock show. The third is a fundamentalist Arab student, newly arrived at Montana State University from his home in the Middle East.

Their discussion drifts to their diverse cultures. Soon, the 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 the magazine table and tips his big sweat-stained hat forward o ver his face. The wind outside is blowing tumbleweeds around, and the old windsock is flapping, but no plane comes.

Finally, the American Indian clears his throat and softly he speaks. "At one time 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, "But 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 smooth drawl. "Thats because we ain't played cowboys and muslims yet, but I do believe it's a-comin'."

From Michelle Thrower, forwarded to me by my daughter Sheryl. Our thanks to both!

Joe