It looked like Death was waiting outside my hotel.
I had been sightseeing Sunday afternoon, taking the MARTA up to Lenox Square Mall. I was trying to get to Phipps but just ran out of time after my flight was slightly delayed. Walking along Andrew J. Young International Boulevard, I squinted up into the setting sun and saw it.
Death. The Grim Reaper. Arms outstretched to gather folks in.
Only, it wasn’t.
It was a statue of Andrew Young, about to be unveiled. I didn’t get to see the unveiling since I was in a PRSA seminar, but I’m sure it was a fabulous ceremony. And I was really relieved to learn Atlanta doesn’t have a statue dedicated to Death.
