An Indian, a Cowboy, and a Muslim

Three strangers strike up a conversation in the airport passenger lounge
in Sioux Falls, South Dakota awaiting their flights. One is an American Indian
passing through from Lame Deer, another is a Cowboy on his way to Rapid City
for a livestock show and the third passenger is a
fundamentalist Arab student, newly arrived at South Dakota 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 tip's his big sweat-stained hat forward over his face. The
wind outside is blowin tumbleweeds around and the old windsock is
flappin; but still no plane comes.

Finally, the American Indian clears his throat and softly 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 South Dakota cowboy shifts his toothpick to one side of his mouth and
from the darkness from beneath his Stetson say's in a drawl, "That's '
cause we ain't played Cowboy's and Muslims yet, but I do believe it's
a-comin."