at a small airfield in texas, three strangers are waiting for their flights.
one is a native american passing thorugh from oklahoma, another a local ranch hand on his way to a cattle show. the third is a middle eastern student, on his way to university.
to pass the time they strike up a conversation on recent events, and as the discussion drifts to their diverse cultures, the americans learn that the student is a devout muslim. the conversation falls into an uneasy lull.
the cowboy leans back in his chair, crosses his boots on the coffee table, tips his hat forward and resumes chewing on his toothpick.
outside, the old windsock flaps and tumbleweeds roll past.
finally, the native american clears his throat and softly speaks: "once my people were many, now we are few"
the muslim raises an eyebrow and counters "once my people were few", he sneers, "and now we are many. why do you suppose that is?"

the cowboy shifts the toothpick to one side of his mouth and from the darkness beneath the stetson says
"because we ain't played cowboys and muslims yet"

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