You got away, didn't you babe

"I saw the most interesting man in the airport lounge," Mom reports. "The first thing I noticed was that he had an expensive guitar with him."

"What kind?"

"I don't know."

Sigh. "Did you tell him your daughter has a new Taylor acoustic with electric pickup?" Which she misses terribly and falls asleep thinking about every night.

"Well you know what's interesting, I don't usually like to talk to people at all, but something about him was so compelling. But also...forbidding. I mean I truly wanted to know more about him but felt like I could not approach. Then we got on the plane and he was in first class!"

My ears perk up. "Mom, even good working musicians don't fly first class. There's only one pay grade in the music world that buys you a first class seat, and that's famous musician. Like marquee name."

It occurs to me to start looking around for actual marquees. Oslo isn't very big, and a musician flew here, first class, a few hours ago.

Minutes later I see it. Bright blue banner, white letters. A "marquee name" even mom would recognize, emblazoned on a music hall not far from the National Theater.

"Mom, the guy you saw on the plane... Did he by any chance look, ah...Jewish?"

"He did! You know I was just going to say he looked Jewish, how strange is that?"

I fumble for my phone and google a photo. "This guy?"

"Yes!"

Leonard Cohen.