Having spent the bulk of Miss9’s birthday at a workshop, which our daughter mentioned repeatedly all day, Tracey wanted to do something extra special for the three hours we had between when she arrived back at the unit and bed time.
“Dad. Dad! DAD!” Miss12 called after me as I approached the black limo which had just pulled up a little down the street from where we were standing. “Dad, that’s not a taxi! Come back!”
We’d told the kids we’d called a taxi to come pick us up and take us to the Surf Club for Miss9’s birthday dinner, but we’d been a bit sneaky.
As I reached the passenger window, the limo pulled out from the curb and turned the corner. I figured the driver was looking for a better spot to park.
“It’s okay,” I called back to Miss12, who was chasing after me with Miss9 and Master11. “I just want to check if this is the car the taxi service sent us.”
“Why would they do that?” Master11 asked.
“Because I said there were seven of us,” I explained.
Around the corner, the limo had done a u-turn and pulled into the carpark of some shops. I crossed the road.
“DAD!” screamed Miss12. “Come back! That’s a limo, not a taxi! They wouldn’t send a limo!”
“I just want to check,” I called back.
“DAD!” she screamed. “YOU’RE SO EMBARRASSING!”
By now I was pissing myself on the inside because I knew it was all about to come back and bite her on the bum and make the whole experience and reveal even sweeter.
Only not just yet.
I stood at the window of the driver and waited for him to acknowledge me. And waited. He checked his dash. He checked his mirrors, including the one at my hip. And I waited. He looked down at his middle console. In fact, he was looking everywhere but at me. So much so I started to worry about putting my kids in the car with him driving, because if he couldn’t see me standing right there about two feet from him, how was he going to go in traffic.
Finally, he opened the door. I had to step back. Still, he didn’t look at me.
He put a foot onto the ground, his hand on the open door, and swung his hips around and –
“Yes?” he asked, dramatically noticing me for the first time. His voice dripped distain and arrogance. A great start to the night, I thought, because there wasn’t a hope in hell of me handing so much as a five cent piece to this prick.
“Do you have a booking for Devereaux?” I asked him in my sweetest voice, because I wanted to save bile and venom for the big ‘up yours’.
“No,” he spat.
“Oh, thank goodness,” I said, and sprinted back across the road to collect some more disgusted and embarrassed comments from my kids.
“Wrong taxi,” I told them.
“Use your brain! That’s NOT a taxi,” Miss12 reminded me with the sort of tone and eye roll the limo driver across the road would envy.
Ours arrived five minutes later, and I’m so very pleased to say the driver, David, was just beautiful and an absolute delight and made the half hour even more fun by happily stopping to take photos and regaling the kids with stories about Pink using this exact limo while on her last tour.
Which is partly why I’m writing this non-sponsored post up, because on the off chance anyone who reads this does find a reason to hire a limo on the Gold Coast (and as you’ll see from Miss12’s video below you really need to try and find a reason because the kids loved it) I don’t want you to give your hard earned cash to the first guy, I want you to consider the limousine people David works for. Let’s just say I really appreciate good service.
The second reason for this post is I wanted to find an excuse to share Miss12’s daggy little family video, which she put together last night, and which I think conveys how much fun we all had far better than anything I could actually write.
You know they’ve had a ball when, after a day at SeaWorld, MovieWorld and Wet’n’Wild, they still say the limo drive was the best ride of the holiday.
Plus, rather pleasingly, I went from the most embarrassing Dad ever to the coolest in the space of half an hour. So I guess its true, limo’s really do make you feel like you’re some sort of success.
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Raising a family on little more than laughs.