Three strangers strike up a conversation in the airport passenger lounge in Abilene, Texas awaiting their flights. One is an American Indian passing through from Oklahoma City. Another is a Cowboy on his way to Fort Worth for the livestock show, and the third passenger is a fundamentalist Arab student 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 Texas cowboy shifts his toothpick to one side of his mouth and from the darkness beneath his Stetson says in a drawl, "That's 'cause we ain't played Cowboys and Muslims yet, but I do believe it's a-comin'."