Collect Call From: Flight of the Conchords

More Flight of the Conchords photos

Day 5
March 7, 11:28 a.m.
McKenzie calls while en route to the airport, with the sound of giggling coeds in the background.

“The show last night was totally wild. Everyone knew all the songs, and afterward a bunch of kids waited outside to get us to sign their homemade T-shirts. We’re fucking the real deal, man! We
were ready to party afterward, but all the bars were closed. We ended up at—what’s it called? Steak ’n Shake. I had a steak—and also a shake. Now I’m getting a ride to the airport from some … I think you call them sorority girls? I’ve been trying to get the lowdown on how it all works, ’cause my knowledge is based on Hollywood movies, where everyone’s just really mean. Hang on, I’ll ask—do you guys make out with each other all the time? [Girls: “No!”] Yeah—they do!

“I’m flying to Los Angeles, and I don’t know where I’m going to stay tonight. It’s my friend Dave’s birthday, and I’m going to surprise him, so I need to hide out. You’re the only person I’ve told this, so if you haven’t heard from me by tomorrow, come find me—something has gone really wrong.”

Day 6
March 8, 12:17 p.m.
McKenzie rings us from Los Angeles, sounding a bit worse for the wear.

“I’m alive, but barely. Yesterday was a terrible, shitty day. Jemaine is shooting a film in Salt Lake City with Jared Hess, who did Napoleon Dynamite, and he’s working under a different visa. So the poor bastard had to fly to Vancouver at 7 a.m., get his passport stamped and then fly back to Salt Lake to start filming. Then my plane to L.­A. was delayed three hours, and I had to pay 160 bucks to check my guitar. Three-fourths of the way across America, someone started dying. The flight attendants were running around with oxygen and a defibrillator and one of those glucose monitors. We had to make an emergency landing in Las Vegas. But I think everything turned out OK.

“We finally got to L.A. around 11, and I found a room at the Beverly Laurel, my favorite old hotel. It’s this great B-grade motel above a diner called Swingers—like something out of a Tarantino movie. But wait—I can just tell you I slept on the street, can’t I? You don’t know!”

Day 7
March 9, 9:06 p.m.
After a couple of missed connections, we track down McKenzie in L.A., where he’s checking out optical illusions online.

“Sorry for the difficulties. I still don’t have an American cell phone; right now I’m calling on my friend Pauline’s. I tried to buy one yesterday, but they needed a Social Security number. It’s harder to buy a phone in the U.S. than it is to buy a gun. I’m thinking maybe I should just buy a gun, then steal the phone.

“We’ll be writing here in Los Angeles for two months, so I need to find a flat. Yesterday, I looked at one without a kitchen. The lady said, ‘Oh, you like to cook?’ I saw a place today with a koi pond. There’s no koi yet, so right now it’s just a really skanky pond. But it’s got potential.

“This week was probably a low point for the band’s integrity, but it was good to start doing gigs again. We got to meet the Pussycat Dolls, make some money. The only bad thing is, I’m exhausted, I’m dehydrated and I think I’ve got the flu. I can’t imagine people whose tours last longer than three days.”