The week before we met in New York City, my mom said she wanted to see the High Line. I immediately became excited.
Here’s why: The last time I was in New York City, it was 2009, the High Line had just been opened and, at the Washington Post Digital office, I’d just edited a photo gallery about a woman who lived right next to the High Line and who sang cabaret from her balcony to the park visitors below. So when Jeff and I visited New York City that July, we wanted to see the cabaret. Since her website and Facebook page were still in development, I emailed her to find out when the next show was.
Turned out, we wouldn’t have been able to make it. We were slightly crestfallen.
This time around, I was again slightly crestfallen when my mom made the executive decision that we would walk the High Line on Monday morning. At 9 a.m. Certainly, as Jeff noted, we would not be hearing any cabaret.
As such, I will return to the High Line next time I’m in New York City. And I will go at night. But in the meantime, here’s a slew of photos from our 9 a.m. foray from W. 30th Street all the way down to Gansevoort.
Yep. Next time I walk the High Line, it’ll definitely be at dusk.