One for the road...

[Mr Kahn]

Three strangers strike up a conversation in the passenger lounge in Bozeman,

Montana, awaiting their flights. One is an american Indian passing through

from Lame Deer. Another is a Texas cowboy on his way to Billings for a stock

show. The third passenger is a fundamentalist arab student, newly arrived at

Montana 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. 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 blows tumbleweeds, and the old windsock flaps; but no plane

comes.

Finally, the american indian clears his throat and softly he speaks «Once,

my people were many, 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 it's

comin' »....

[Grip]

De er gode å ha, de cowboyene...så sant man ikke er indianer eller muslim.