FYI: the Coopers all on holiday together, on the other side of the world, is REALLY not a great idea.
My story is specifically about a Master Daniel James Cooper:
Now before Daniel entered his current profession he was Bar Manager of our favourite Wimbledon watering hole - Suburban. Prior to this he was a Bar Man(ager) at TGI Friday's, as well as partaking in some part time DJing throughout. So, it is safe to say alcohol and partying was a major factor of Daniel's life for quite some time.
Just incase you were wondering...... this was the morning after the night above for my dear dear brother. Crayon Special.
Anyway, back to the point.
We were off fairly early to Heathrow to begin our trip to Australia - about 8am I think was the pick up time for Daniel.
We turned up at his house, cab filled with my family and our gigantic suitcases (we do NOT travel light). Dad nips out and rings Daniel's door bell. We wait a few minutes in the Taxi. No sign,
I go to the front door and keep my finger on the door bell for a good few long rings. FINALLY a confused looking creature answers the door.
"Dan, what the hell.... we have a plane to catch. Come on. Where's your suitcase?!"
"Ohhhhh er yeah.... ermmm wait let me go see.............. Yup there's my bag." - An open, half empty holdall lay on the floor with clothes thrown in willynilly.
"Right, soooo is this all you are taking? What have you even packed?"
"I'm not sure.... I don't remember doing it. It'll be fine"
PRICK!!! - It takes me HOURS and HOURS of stressing and endless checklists before I am comfortable enough to go off on holiday safe in the knowledge that 'It will be fine'!!!!
"OK, fine, whatever. Where is your passport?"
Daniel walks out of his room and into the kitchen. I throw a few more random clothes into his bag and zip it up. I walk into the kitchen to find Daniel with his face in the fridge.
"Dan, what you doing?"
"Looking for my passport, DUH"
"You're in the fridge you dick"
"Oh.... yeah.... may as well have some milk whilst i'm here"
"DANIEL. PASSPORT. NOW"
"CHILLLLLLLLLLLL. It's been in my back pocket the whole time. I put it there for safe keeping."
Thank god for that. I finally push Daniel into the Taxi and we set off.
Heathrow
So you know..... at this point in life Daniel has started hanging out in Wimbledon with ALOT of South Africans. SOME (not all...) of which are notoriously racist.
Daniel is in NO WAY racist. However, he IS a big mouthed, cheeky, sarcastic git who is far too outspoken, especially when inebriated (Rather like his sister).
There happened to be a fair number of Black holiday makers in the airport that day and drunk daniel thought it would be HI-LAR-IOUS to start mocking them at the top of his voice..... with certain South African phrases spoken in a hideously un-PC accent.
Since Daniel is the tallest member of the family - it was difficult to stop his voice from carrying. Short of throwing a few punches his way there wasn't much I could do.
We finally found our check in desk and proceeded to hand all our luggage over. We all stood there nervously knowing that Daniel is not clever in these situations at the best of times - let alone when PESSED.
E.g. The year we went to Greece the check in lady asked if we had any guns or knives in our bags. Daniel being the DOUCHE he is exclaimed.... "Yeah, i've got a giant machete in mine". The lady did not take his sarcasm lightly and it took ALOT of persuasion before she believed he was kidding.
FUNNY BOY.
Right, this time however there was a question of lighters not being allowed on board in our baggage or on our persons. Daniel being both a barman and a smoker was likely to have some on him. We all turned to look at him.
He started drunkenly fumbling around his many...many... many pockets..... as well as through his luggage and pulled out lighter after lighter. I believe the count reached a WHOPPING 16 lighters.
SO unnecessary
Next came Customs. What a barrel of laughs that was. I some how got lumbered with the job of looking after the drunken imbecile in one queue whilst my parents and other brother Andrew scampered off into another queue.
I went ahead of Daniel. Error.
We were asked to remove our shoes. OK... I did mine pretty easily and throw all my hand luggage into a tray.
Daniel however, was causing quite a scene behind me. He was wearing pretty baggy jeans with no belt.
It would seem that as dear Daniel bent down to pick his shoes up - his jeans (and boxers) went with him....... MUCH to the dismay of an old couple stood DIRECTLY behind him.
I spun round, reacting to the squeal of an old lady, and saw Daniel with pretty much his entire arse on display. I subtly gestured to Dan to pull his jeans up and get the hell out of the way.
NO such luck. Daniel whipped his jeans up and then turned around to shake the poor old lady's hand.
OH THE SHAME.
We Finally Finally made it onto the flight.... thank god that ordeal was over.
ORRRRRR NOT...
Turns out that for the rest of my flight... and holiday in fact.... I was assumed to be Mrs Cooper, Daniel's wife.
This was a mind-numbing error on the travel company's part as Daniel and I were both flying back earlier than Mum, Dad and Andrew for work. The Travel company just could not get to grips with this and came to the conclusion that we must therefore be a married couple.
On every International flight, internal flight, hotel reservation and tour booking we were mistaken for a happily married couple.
OH Fanbloodytastic.
The Cooper Family on Ramsay Street. Yeahhhhhh.
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