Well, it’s been a year, New York. Happy to say I wouldn’t change a thing. Year 2 begins tomorrow.
There’s so much to love about New York’s HighLine park. Perched high enough above the streets, the corridor accesses previously unknown vantage points as it snakes its way up the west side of Manhattan. And though thoroughly modern at every step, the HighLine owes this moment - and its very existence - to our past.
The last train ran along the HighLine in late 1980, carrying three carloads of frozen turkeys. Around that same time, or maybe even earlier, it was as though the entire country had hopped into cars and fled cities. With dead certainty, we swore we’d never look back…. Until of course, we did. And there waiting for us, standing in a 24-block-long rusted and muted testament to our folly - to our collective lack of foresight - was the abandoned HighLine.
The story of the HighLine makes me think that being great isn’t about always being right. Maybe it’s just the opposite. Maybe being great is about admitting mistakes. Maybe being great is about what you do next. As we can see from these great photographs, the grass will grow up through the cracks. Life will repopulate the areas we’d love to forget we’ve abandoned. We will be given second chances.
At some point soon, Mars Bar will close temporarily. It stands to reason, however, that the true ambiance or “unimaginable filth” of this place will never return. So if you’re nearby, or if you’re thirsty, or if you’re just looking to impress someone you haven’t seen in 10 years, for god’s sake dive in for one last drink.