Three strangers strike up a conversation in the airport in Bozeman, Montana, awaiting their flights. One is a Sioux Indian from Lame Deer. Another is a Cowboy on his way to Billings for a rodeo. The third is a fundamentalist Arab student, newly arrived at Montana State University. Their discussion drifts to their 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 table and tips his sweat-stained hat over his face. After a long silence, the Indian clears his throat and 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, and 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 drawl, "That's 'cause we ain't played Cowboys and Muslims yet, but I do believe it's coming'."