Iggy Pop, Gate B23

Pre-board Peacock in Austin, 2007

I’m not surprised by famous musicians at the airport or on my flight. A plane going from Nashville direct to anywhere is bound to have some music peeps on board. But before I moved to Music City, when I flew out of Indianapolis International, and Sea-Tac before that, the run-ins were thrilling. After the Stooges played a reunion show at SXSW in 2007, I had an A+ Iggy Pop sighting at Austin-Bergstrom.

via laut.de photographer ?

I got out of a cab at curbside and saw Iggy jump out of a black SUV. He had on a baseball cap, pulled low, with big sunglasses, but I clocked him right away. I kept an eye on him through check-in, where he remained low-key. Others would’ve recognized Iggy if I had, but no one bothered the guy. I wouldn’t have thought to ask for an autograph or even say hello. I’m an admirer and I give all props, but the truth is I’m not well-versed in the catalog. I love a song or two, like everyone, but the man himself is bigger than the sound.

I lost track of Iggy when we split into separate lines for security, but was thrilled to see him again as I waited to board, standing on the periphery of hundreds of people gathered at the nearby gates. He must relish anonymity when he can find it, I thought, after days of shows and promo.

But just when I finished the thought, Iggy Pop high-stepped over legs and carry-ons to position himself in the center of the mass of travelers, removed his hat and the shades, peeled off his t-shirt, kicked off his shoes, and got into mountain pose.

Tree pose in tight blue jeans, hands at his heart. Triangle pose. He moved through a few flows, breathing in loudly, out loudly with a sigh, keeping his eyes closed, all other eyes on him, leathery-ass skin jacket twisting with his bends and stretches.

--

I’ve been doing a short yoga class on my wife’s yoga app. The teacher is only slightly older than me, but vastly more chill. Early in the practice, she has me bend at the waist, dangle my arms, and let the weight of my head fall toward the floor. She guides me with slow words, quiet with long pauses, and I laugh each time when she says our heads are nearly useless.

Just let
your arms hang.  Maybe
sway just    a little,
and let your head hang

like a weight.
Our head is this   massive
heavy thing     we
carry around.

No one really knows
    what it's for    
but
I think it's for
       helping us
stretch our spine.

Thanks for being here. I’m writing many mornings at the Mall at Green Hills, which is decidedly not dead. I count five luxury watch brands each with their own store. I’m making good progress on the novel, and a music-related series for the ‘stack. More soon.

-🖤AV