New York High Line a Party: public intox, voyeurs, drugs. Sounds fun.

One of the many reasons I miss New York.

Gawker recently ran an article about how the High Line Park in Manhattan’s Meat Packing district has had the highest number of infractions of drinking in public places out of any park in all five of New York’s boroughs. Apparently some people are distressed that so many individuals are so inclined to have a nice glass of bubbly or pinot noir while watching the sun set over the Hudson river with a clear view of the New Jersey skyline. Honestly, who wouldn’t want to pop open a few bottles and celebrate that they’re on the right side of that river? There’s never been a better time to celebrate living in New York than at sunset, watching the last beams of light refract across the chemical haze that is disgusting New Jersey. I’m pretty sure everyone over in Hoboken is drinking too, but that’s probably to forget all the undesirable things about being from Hoboken.

Gawker also ran a second article filled with other people’s stories from the New York High Line: the good, the bad, the ugly. Of course there were a fair number of stories about making out and the like. But who hasn’t made out on the High Line??? I mean, I feel like every time I’m at the High Line, it’s because I’m planning on making out. Also, I’m probably drunk. It’s a great place to wander to after you’ve had a night out in any of the adjacent neighborhoods, and as I lived about 5 avenues away from the High Line for 4 years, I was in the neighborhood and tipsy fairly often. It’s just what you do in New York. You have a few drinks with friends, wander to a quaint public park and start playing tonsil tag. To be sloppily making out in a park is to be a New Yorker. Deal with it. I also wasn’t surprised to see that many people have seen couples having sex in the Standard hotel with the blinds wide open. What did you expect was going to happen when you built a high-end hotel on top of an elevated pedestrian walkway? Someone’s going to leave their windows open, and other people are going to watch them have sex. It’s not an ideal situation, because you can’t control who leaves the windows open, but that’s life. It’s like a box of chocolates. Or a hotel full of horny voyeurs. Your choice of metaphor.

Some of the other stories involved smoking weed, S&M craft fair, etc. I mean, the whole city of New York pretty much reeks of weed. Especially the Village. People should just get over it and move on with their lives. Glaucoma has been on epidemic-level rises within the 20-something community. Let those nice people smoke their weed and relieve the veins in their eyeballs. The only other story that I found highly amusing was some girl who talked about going to Magnolia Cupcakes (overrated) and took her cupcake to the High Line… and ate the whole thing. That’s bravery. She will be the first, and the only, woman to ever admit to eating an entire baked good in public in lower Manhattan. Bravo, madame. My hat is off to you. Also, so are the pants of that couple in the hotel above you. Your move.

Ciao Bella!

Matteo Yazge

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