High Anxiety and The High Line

It was just one of those things, my shoe caught in a crevice and next thing you know, I'm flying backwards with nothing but thin air to grasp.

In between scheduled events on a "bring your spouse to New York" work thing, I had hoped to explore a few horticultural wonders in addition to just dinners and Bergdorf Goodman. My husband's colleague's wife said she was game to go with me and check out the High Line so off we went.

The High Line is the reincarnation of an abandoned portion of elevated train track running through lower Manhattan. Envision a strolling garden just above the busy streets, a peaceful haven of flowers and trees amidst the din and decibels of the city. Excited to see this innovative landscape, I had plans to capture images of blooming grasses backlit against the New York skyline for an article or at least a blog post.

However only a few minutes after climbing the stairs and deciding which way to walk, I took a tumble. I knew it was going to hurt, but nothing prepares you for the actual moment of head meeting concrete, sharp pebbly aggregate to boot. For a minute I thought this is it, I'm gonna die on the High Line and I didn't get to even see it.

Luckily I am a hard-headed woman.

And even luckier, my now-new best friend was a nurse in another life. With a purse prepared for any possibility, she pulled out Kleenex and other amenities to soak up the blood and held my hand until I could gain my wits. Yet that took awhile and added to the anxiety I was already experiencing.

In addition, two lovely young men who witnessed my clumsy crash, called 911. One of the young men, an EMT, assured me that even though my brain fell five feet to the ground, heads could handle that and more. He asked me what day it was, but even on my best days I can't always answer that, but I did well on the year and the president. He said the fact that I stayed conscious was good, although I would have preferred to pass out and wake up when it was all over with, such as the shock.

But not everyone is happy. That double-edged sword of gentrification has cut a huge swath with this floating pedestrian path. Small businesses and nearby residents are struggling as developers flock like crows to a cornfield along its route, forcing up rents and property values and displacing many people. I'm the first to tell you I don't know much about economics, but it's unfortunate that when people try to reduce, reuse, etc instead of tear down, not everyone benefits. With similar projects in the works in St Louis, Philadelphia and Chicago, it will be interesting to see how these projects play out.

Researching more, I find that I'm not the only one to hurt myself on the High Line. Recently several young boys found themselves "locked up" on the High Line after it was closed at dusk. One boy clambered down and jumped off the structure suffering serious injuries. He's suing the city of New York. I have no such plans but heartily suggest they fill that narrow wedge-shaped gap between the rails by the entry at 14th and 10th. It's a doozy.

We had been told on a tour the day before best not get hit by a car in NYC after 4pm, the ambulance would never make it, because the cabs wouldn't pull over. Even at 2pm, my husband arrived but the paramedics were a no-show. In spite of this many people stopped and offered help or concern, changing my perception of supposedly blase New Yorkers.

Meanwhile, I must have apologized a hundred times for making a spectacle. My companion simply pulled out her phone and showed me the app that gives her a spiritual quote for the day. Monday's was about taking on your neighbor's misfortunes as your own.