I was recently in the Northern New South Wales town of Murwillumbah. The town had recently suffered its largest flood in living memory and I was assisting with some flood insurance claims. It’s thirsty work. Not as hard as cleaning the thick mud from your house or workplace but sweaty work all the same.
While on a break, I walked into a downtown store to buy an icy cold bottle of water. The lady behind the counter squinted in my direction for a few seconds and then approached the counter.
"Is your name Dean?"
"Ahh no. It isn’t."
"Dean who used to be in the Comancheros Motorcycle Club?"
"No, no. Andrew. I’m from Brisbane. Motorcycles terrify me. Haha…"
"Are you sure your name isn't Dean?"
"I'm, like, 98% sure, lady."
"Um, can I have my water now?
As I left the shop to return to my dusty rental car I heard her whisper, "Hey Cheryl, Dean is back in town."
Sorry Murwillumbah, Dean's second reign of terror has begun in earnest.