Rhys Darby: I'm off, like bad cheese

Just as cheesy as my Valentine's Day limerick. Photo / Babiche Martens

I'm leaving on a jet plane (sing it with me) and homesick already.

Hello readers, it's the Darby here. Well, like a cheese that's been left out in the heat, I'm off again.

I'm writing this from the Air New Zealand departure lounge. I think the chap in charge here might be a big fan of my work. He's gone to the liberty of positioning me in a specially designed VIP section of the lounge complete with reserved sign and red velvet rope.

The only problem is he's made so much fuss out of "displaying" me that I'm a sitting dick for ridicule. A lovely thought, but unfortunately his efforts are one step away from a neon sign flashing the words "Look at Me!"

"Too much sir?"

"Yes ... a little. Is there any chance I could just sit with the other people?"

"Of course sir, but please let me arrange for extra pillows."

I love airports because funny things always happen at them. They're giant complexes full of urgency, seriousness and confusion. Where am I supposed to be? Which way do I go? And that's just the staff.

I remember one day I approached the information desk with my gay friend and the person behind the counter said: "Can I help you with your query?"

By the way, I should probably mention that I'm writing this column on Valentine's Day. Yes, that's right, that one day of the year when most couples are canoodling with candy and cuddles I'm alone and on a plane.

Truth be told, my wife Rosie and I never really bother with Valentine's Day. After all, it's just commercial rubbish. Having said that, I did secretly sneak a card with a poem in it under her pillow.

I couldn't resist - she's constantly making my dreams come true so the least I can do is write her a limerick.

Anyhoo, it's off to Los Angeles I go. The city of angels ... and meetings. I won't be there long, three weeks or so, but long enough to miss my kids terribly. Don't tell Rosie, but I'm actually looking forward to some well-earned sleep-ins.

Two days ago I wrapped the filming on my TV show Short Poppies. It was a gruelling six months of work. From devising to writing, rewriting and acting, making a TV show is long hours for everyone involved. The good news is I think we nailed it and it was the most fun I've had since working with the Conchords.

I'm just stuck with this weird feeling now. You know the one you get after you finish school camp. Maybe sunny LA will cure my blues. They tell me there's more dreams to be captured and harnessed in Hollywood. But are there? Really?

Well, I guess I'll let you know in the coming weeks. Oh, and give us a yell if you want any duty free.