Livin’ The High Line

Taking Bucky downstairs for a quick pee this morning I was greeted with a sign in our elevator bearing the headline: “Notice of High Line Deck Waterproofing.” Snapped it with my iPhone. Juggling a leash with an impatient dog at the other end didn’t help, but you get the picture: we are advised that “Deck Waterproofing” is soon to begin. The sign explains that “three coats of waterproofing, primer and two finish” will be applied. “Because concrete waterproofing is a very weather dependent operation,” they go on, “it is difficult to provide an exact schedule.”  And then the kicker: “The waterproofing operation is likely to be accompanied by odors…” Luckily this operation took place on a cold January day so there was no need to close a window.

I caught these fellows in the act of pouring concrete early one morning. I had Bucky with me and we had just dropped Ann off at Penguin. Walked back up on Tenth Avenue, rather than the bike path, and was rewarded with the sight of a large, loud, concrete mixer with a very long piping system attached to its arm. Unfortunately I wasn’t able to get a view from my window of the concrete being actually poured onto the High Line bed (meetings, tarnation). This was taken with an iPhone, so not such great quality.

I walked down the High Line tonight to pick Ann up and have a bite. To my surprise and delight, it was glowing blue. The iPhone doesn’t quite do it justice.

I saw barely anyone, as it was raining outside. But there’s a hard core High Line visitor who’s undeterred by weather. Passing these folks I get the feeling that I imagine motorcyclists do when they pass each other on the highway; you see them flicking their lights or giving a more subtle, half-high-five. So that’s what rainy High Liners do too: a slight tip of the head or a raised finger if there’s a free hand. “Hey, you’re here too. Isn’t it great without the crowds?”

I shook myself dry in the tunnel, then continued on, very happy indeed.

But wait, the men in Hasmat suits are back, and they are painting the High Line white.  The smell is still overbearing.  They have a particular way of doing this, a choreography that seems to work well:  all the guys walk east with their sprayers and then they walk west, following the east/west axis of the High Line.

It doesn’t take long, and soon the Highline is bright white, ready for its next moment.

Days pass with no action and suddenly there is a large truck on the Highline.  How did it get there?  Why do I have to go to meetings?

The truck gives way to yet another machine, but before these fellows arrived on the scene a worker made a huge amount of noise with a leaf blower.  Perhaps he was drying out the concrete?  I had to move to the bedroom in order to take a business call.  This blue machine appears to be a precise instrument that does what??

And then, most amazing of all, the men change outfits and re-emerge in Hasmat suits to paint the Highline yellow.

The smell is so awful and sickening that I am forced to close every window in the apartment (7 face the Highline) and turn on the air conditioning.  Finally I move (again) to the bedroom.  What is this paint and why does it smell so deadly?

But it certainly does the trick. The Highline is now yellow.