Three strangers strike up a conversation in the airport passenger lounge in
Calgary while awaiting their respective flights.

One is a native Indian from the Sarcee Reserve; another is a cowboy on his
way to Lethbridge for a livestock auction. 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 Albertans 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.

To break the silence, the Native Indian clears his throat and softly 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 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 . . . ."