The High Line

I was home only two hours after I’d left in such a hurry. It felt as though I’d spent the entire evening exploring the high line.

I have spent the last several summers in New York City with my uncle. This summer I met Hanna, a senior at Spence School. She invited me to explore the city with her. We made plans to go to the high line: an elevated train track that was converted to a park that stretches over a mile across the city.

We planned to meet at the 23rd St entrance to the high line. Running late, I sprinted to the subway station on 86th. I swiped my MetroCard and ran down to the express train platform. Luckily, the train had just arrived, and I slipped through the closing doors. It was 7:00 p.m., and the train was filled with fascinating people. Most were getting off work, others were dressed up for rendez-vous with friends.

I transferred to the L train at Union Square, and then hailed a cab. Thirty minutes after I left, I was running across the street to the high line entrance. I looked up and saw Hanna and her brother, Richard, waving. They told me they saw someone running across the street and knew it must have been me. We walked down to Chelsea market and browsed all of the restaurants inside. We chose Bar Suzette, a little one that offered a wide variety of sweet and savory crèpes. Then, we walked through the vibrant streets of Chelsea back to the high line.

Hanna called it “golden hour.” The sun was setting over the Hudson River. First, the clouds turned pink like cotton candy. Then, as the sun lowered further, a spectrum of colors stretched across the sky in the order of the rainbow. We walked and talked and looked. Walking between the flowers and plants on the sides of the path was serene. At the same time, it felt alive, there were so many other people: tourists, cute couples, amateur astronomers, an artist. We walked the entire length of the high line. Of course, we had a photo-shoot too, taking embarrassing selfies and asking friendly-looking tourists to take our picture. Then, we took an Uber back home to the Upper East Side. I was home by 9:00 p.m.

That’s the effect of the city. Everything moves so quickly and time feels frozen all at once. Every moment lingers: the subway ride, the crèpes from Chelsea Market, the Tuesday evening stroll. But when you get back, the clock says it’s only 9:00 p.m., and you’re already home. I felt a renewed sense of gratitude and motivation upon arriving home. I’m fortunate to have experienced such a beautiful part of the city–the high line felt so grand–and to think that it’s only one small piece of the world! The trip reminded me that there is so much to learn and to try. I’m excited to do so.