A Little Island with a lot of Hope

I was not expecting to be impressed. New York City’s latest park isn’t even in the city at all. It exists on a man made island about a hundred yards into the Hudson River near the end of West 14th Street. We had been among the first to experience it as it has just recently opened. I had also been among the first to experience The Vessel, the geometrical metal stairs sculpture that looks like something M.C. Escher might have seen in a nightmare and woken up in a start at how something like that could haunt his subconscious mind.

The Vessel

The Vessel from the inside

I remember I went there with hope that it could be kind of interesting, that I could at least maybe get some cool photos out of it. That each step and each floor might be a new adventure. But each step and each floor was simply more of the same. I went in search of some cool view. Some interesting angle or perspective. Yet my search was in vain. I hoped that maybe when I finally got to the top of the thing I might have some interesting views looking out towards New York City. But unfortunately no. Just the tip of the Empire State Building poking out in the distance, minuscule and sad. This was supposed to be the crowning public space of the befuddling billionaires’ playground that is Hudson Yards. One of the developers had said this would be New York’s next great tourist attraction. He said it would be New York’s Eiffel Tower. Sadly no. I remember when we got to the top and looked down, as I stared down beneath me I said to my friend A.J. “How long you think till somebody commits suicide by jumping off this thing?” And he got concerned and said “Matt, are you ok? Do we need to talk?” And I assured him I was fine. I was just wondering. And yet in less than a year someone did kill themself by jumping off it. Then two more people did the same.

Now, I just went down this dark path to say what an opposite experience I had at Little Island. That’s the official, rather quaint name for this engineering and architectural achievement that cost hundreds of millions of dollars. (about $250 million) All paid for through the generosity of billionaire Barry Diller. And interestingly it was designed by British designer Thomas Heatherwick. I say interestingly because he is the same architect who designed The Vessel.

My friend Jarret had gotten tickets, which are free, for our friend Don, himself and me and we decided to bike down there. The tickets were timed and he had made the reservation for 6:30pm and it was now 5:30pm. We got there a little sooner than we had anticipated. And we weren’t sure if they would let us in, or tell us we had to wait around an hour until 6:30. This wasn’t too big a concern because we figured we could go somewhere nearby and get something to drink or eat.

So it was with a bit of trepidation that we approached the entrance. Don said something about threatening physical violence if they didn’t let us in. And Jarret told Don not to worry and let him do the talking. I agreed with Jarret. So there was a bit of a line, but it was moving quickly. We got up to the entrance and the person let us through. And just as we walked through I heard her tell a young woman behind us that you needed a ticket. I looked back to see the disappointment in her young face. I thought we’d made it, but then Jarret and Don mentioned that they hadn’t actually scanned the tickets on Jarrett’s phone and that was the next hurdle we needed to pass. We approached the person with the scanning machine. Jarret showed them the three tickets on his phone and said that Don and I were with him. She scanned each one and let us in. As we walked past I wanted to shout out “It worked!” but thought that might seem a bit suspicious so I kept my mouth shut.

It had been about a two hour bike ride and I was thirsty. Fortunately there was a water fountain right there and I took a long drink as Jarrett went to use the bathroom.

There were some little metal squares on the ground nearby that you could step on and they’d produce a musical tone. People were seeming to have a lot of fun with this, but the lack of intent to even attempt to produce something musical made my brain hurt and I found it kind of annoying. And couldn’t wait for Jarret to get out of the bathroom so we could move on.

The whole park sits in these giant graceful concrete cups of varying heights and two of them were so close I wanted to reach out and touch them, and I tried, but I couldn’t quite reach. Don seemed to think this was foolish since it was obviously impossible. But I couldn’t help myself. And I was reminded of visiting the American Museum of Natural History in New York as a small child with my parents and brothers and looking up at that huge, giant blue whale suspended from the ceiling and it seemed so close when you were standing on the stairs that I would reach up and try to touch it, but never could. It always seemed just out of reach. And I thought if I were just a little taller… Now as an adult I don’t know how I ever thought I could reach it. It seems so far away. I think I’ve read that maybe they did some renovations and now it’s somehow more realistic or something and maybe it’s further away, but that’s another story. But it always seemed so close and I would stand on my tippie-toes and reach my little fingers out as far as I could, but it was always just out of reach. Just like those beautiful concrete cups.

So Jarret returned and we embarked on our adventure to explore this Little Island. There were several options, several paths to take, and we weren’t sure where to go so we just walked up and to the left. In the Vessel you just walk up the stairs and there’s no surprises, no twists or turns. Here there were various twists and turns along the winding path and always a little surprise around every corner as you’re greeted by new, beautiful, different flowers and plants. Like little friends popping up to say hi as they enjoy the sunlight as much as you do. And the flowers swayed and danced in the breeze.

And people walked around maskless and free and you could see the smiles on their faces and the sun glowing off their skin. When just a few months ago it would have been somewhat terrifying in New York to be so close to so many maskless people. Now it felt like a release. It felt like people had been let out and were celebrating, their faces unencumbered by fearful masks. And it was like we were humans again. That stranger was just another person, not a potential spreader of some deadly disease.

We decided to head up to the highest part of the park, the Southwest Overlook. More twisting turning paths led us upward. And it reminded me of Central Park. That man-made creation that also tricks you into thinking it’s nature. But a pleasant trick. You know you’re in a city, but you almost feel like you’re not.

And as we got to the top of the overlook I was surprised and impressed and I couldn’t help but exclaim “Not bad!”, which for me is high praise. And a woman looked at me and smiled in appreciation of my appreciation as if to say, “I know, right?” I joined Jarrett and Don and we looked out toward lower Manhattan with One World Trade Center and those downtown skyscrapers rising in the distance. And Don said “There’s the Jenga building, 55 Leonard Street.” And Jarret said “It’s 53 Leonard Street” And I said “You’re both wrong. It’s 56 Leonard Street.” And Jarret said “Oh 53 is the Service Entrance. That’s where I went in.”

And we saw the Statue of Liberty and the Verrazzano-Narrows Bridge. And it was so amazing to get a new view of New York City. One I’d never seen before. I’d never seen Lower Manhattan and the bridge and the Statue of Liberty all at the same time from this angle. And they looked so beautiful and brilliant. And it was a little hazy so I didn’t have a totally clear view of the Statue of Liberty, but I knew that was her.

And we talked about how the Verrazzano-Narrows Bridge was at one time the longest bridge in the world and how it’s the longest bridge in America, longer than the Golden Gate Bridge. And there was no stress in my body. And no fear in my mind. Just the plants and the paths and the people. And it was beautiful and simple and pure. And you could see the Empire State Building rising proudly in the distance. You could see the buildings of the Hudson yards. And it was this beautiful dichotomy of the skyscrapers rising in between the trees. This strange interplay of nature and the city. And how they seemed to fit together. And complement each other.

And I looked out at the sun reflecting off of the Hudson River. And the water looked solid. And the reflection of the sun looked like a path and it seemed as if you could walk across the river on that sunlit path and follow it out across to America. To the west, to whatever paths and adventures might await you out there. And I stood up there and I said to Jarret that I couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to kill themselves up here. And I recounted the story of when I visited The Vessel with A.J. and it inspired those suicide thoughts. Not that I was going to kill myself, but I could see how one would.

And we all agreed that New York felt like New York again, in the best way possible. The people and the weather, the newness, the adventures to be had. And I thought all seemed right in the world.