>At the southeast entrance of Central Park stands a statue. It's
nothing special to my eye, just a guy on horseback following an angel.
Huband's prior employer was in the area, and he passed the statue
every day. It was common to find people, especially Southerners,
posing in front of the statue for pictures, unaware that it depicts
Gen. William Tecumseh Sherman being lead by the Angel of Death on his
destructive march to Atlanta.

I thought about the happy tourists, deceived by the appearance of an
angel statue, a few minutes ago when a biker nearly ran me down. His
traffic light was red, I had the pedestrian crossing symbol, and as he
swerved slightly to avoid me, he yelled, "Fucking watch where you are
going, bitch."

"No, you fucking ran a red light, so don't you dare talk to me like
that, you fucking asshole," I screamed as he streamed by, my hands up
in a defensive measure, a mere second away from pushing him. He's
lucky I have such bad reflexes.

I was all gussied up (even wearing low heels!), as I was on my way to
a wedding, which made me wonder if he would be such a dickhead if I
didn't look so harmless. The adrenaline pumped so hard in me that I
almost ran after him to kick his bike. How did he know that I was not
a psychopath who would do something like that, rather than a
rageaholic who would instead blog about wanting to bash his face in?
Looks, as the Angel of Death can testify, can be deceiving. Harumph.

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