Badger Bart
Sr. Member
- #1
Thread Owner
IT'S A COMIN'
T
hree strangers strike up a conversation in the airport passenger lounge in
Calgary Alberta , while awaiting their respective flights. One is an
American Indian passing through from Lame Deer.
Another is a Cowboy on his way to Lethbridge for a livestock show.
The third passenger is a fundamentalist Arab student, newly arrived at the
University of Calgary 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 Alberta cowboy shifts 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'."
T
hree strangers strike up a conversation in the airport passenger lounge in
Calgary Alberta , while awaiting their respective flights. One is an
American Indian passing through from Lame Deer.
Another is a Cowboy on his way to Lethbridge for a livestock show.
The third passenger is a fundamentalist Arab student, newly arrived at the
University of Calgary 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 Alberta cowboy shifts 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'."
Love it, Badger! I wanna be a Cowboy! 
