The request came to meet on site in New York City on an August afternoon. As it turned out the meeting and the trains didn't quite line up. It was well past rush hour, and they were running on a more leisurely schedule. As such, it made sense to take one an hour or so earlier than the next, as that one would have me rushing to get to the location just in time. It wasn't like I had any shopping or other business to take care of in the vicinity where I'd be. But the weather was nice and there was nothing else pressing on my book, so off I went.
I've been to the city on countless occasions, usually enroute to a specific destination at a specific time. But it's easy to forget that people come here the way we go elsewhere. Regardless of the neighborhood, it's an amazing place to just walk around and soak in what is happening. We so rarely play tourists where we live, it's easy to forget that people plan their entire vacation just to do what we do daily.
So with an extra hour or so to kill I took on that persona, zigzag-ing my way across town. In one little vest-pocket park I stopped to hear an opera singer doing a lunch-time aria. A few blocks further was a field with a spirited soccer game in progress (the blue team was much better than the red). I stopped to look at an art exhibition that popped-up in an unused storefront. All things that existed before, but which I would have just hustled by or missed if I was enroute to an appointment.
It being lunchtime I ducked into a little deli to get a sandwich and a drink. I walked out with the intention of strolling to a bench in the shade. Wandering a little further I realized that I was by a stairway to the High Line. Now fifteen years old, this mile and a half long elevated park is built on the abandoned tracks of the New York Central Railroad. It winds up from the meatpacking district to 34th Street, and has become a model for urban restoration around the world, justifiable so. So up I went and strolled along until I found an open bench to sit and eat and watch the parade.
The linear park's notoriety means that it is listed in every NYC guidebook in every language. Just as Broadway and the Empire State Building are on many a tourist's wish list, so too is the High Line. Being an outdoor attraction, in good weather it is a magnet, and after a week of rain it was a spectacular day indeed. The mid-summer sun was shining and the humidity was relatively low. For sure lots of people were at the Metropolitan Museum or down at the 9/11 Memorial, but if your bingo card had "take a walk in an urban oasis in the middle of the Big Apple on a brilliant day" and you were where I was, you were a winner.
If you are a local and its route runs from where you are to where you have to be, it might actually be faster than coping with the city streets. But it was obvious that the majority of traffic was from out-of-towners. The tells were plentiful: guidebooks for sure, but also backpacks worn in front and a leisurely pace. Not talking or thumbing a message on their phones with heads down, but rather holding them at the ready to snap a picture. As the bench I found in the shade just happened to be by an architecturally interesting building, at least 40% of the people stopped and clicked away. It's not that New Yorkers don't take pictures. They just don't take pictures like that.
I was also struck by the dynamics of the different groups. Young couples strolling and stopping to take selfies with the building in the background. Lots of kids, little ones ranging in front of their parents, older ones hanging behind. The parents uniformly had a delighted look mixed with vigilance, the kids not always. Smaller ones seemed to be enjoying it, being allowed to walk ahead and be the first to see plants and people and buildings. Many of the mature ones trailing behind their guardians just looked bored as though they had been sentenced to take a walk with their parents. I wondered if our family looked the same back in the day with our kids in Rome or Paris.
Glancing at my watch, I realized I had to get going. Just then a larger group of people happened by, with one kid limping and some blood on his shin. A woman in the group told him to sit on my bench so she could take a look and clean it up. I hopped up to give them some space, and offered some clean napkins I had leftover from my lunch. The woman smiled, and thanked me, then took a first aid kit from her purse that would have done any EMT proud. You're definitely not from around here.
I tossed my trash (including the clean napkins) and walked back down into the workaday world. I quickly slipped back into my usual roll, slaloming quickly down the sidewalk to my destination. But a little of the other "me" rubbed off as well. I got to my location a few minutes early, and rather than go inside I walked past the entrance, and leaned against a storefront to watch the people walk by. As that consummate New Yorker Yogi Berra said, "You can observe a lot just by watching."
-END-
Marc Wollin of Bedford takes random walks whenever he can. His column appears weekly via email and online http://www.glancingaskance.blogspot.com/ and https://marcwollin.substack.com/, as well as via Facebook, LinkedIn and Twitter.
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