Is this the same High Line that Jeremiah Moss recently decried as “Disney World on the Hudson?”
Where is everyone???
Hey, listen up: it’s drop-dead gorgeous up there this time of year, and right now– or on any drizzly day, for that matter — you can have the whole place to yourself.
I’ve never understood why so few people go out for a walk on a rainy afternoon. By 4:00 pm today it was just spitting, not nearly raining, and the newly trimmed plants — cut back by a small army of volunteers over the past few weeks — are bursting with the promise of spring.
Without the long, dying grasses drooping and cascading over them, the railroad tracks are suddenly in full view; if you stand at 30th Street and look south you can see enough of them to actually get a sense of perspective projection distortion, the visual phenomenon that makes it seem as though the rails are converging. There’s not a tourist in sight to block your view. In the Chelsea Grassland, where the Cutback Army hasn’t yet massed, you can crinkle-shut your eyes and pretend you’re in a field in Nebraska.
I don’t want to hear any more complaints about how crowded the High Line is.