Tours

Highline Visitor
July, 1:00pm

Above the fast pace of the city streets, you occupy a space that is removed from the place below. The sounds are dampened, the view is different. This is a place that escapes both the landscape and the velocity of Manhattan as you experience it on a daily basis. Looking to the left and to the right, you see the juncture of nature and industry. To the left, buildings rise at staggering heights. Windows give occupants a view from within to the outside world, but no chance to feel the breeze or smell the undergrowth. They are enclosed in a space built by man, with no natural intervention. To the right, the Hudson River flows. Adjacent to the Hudson, is the fast counterpart to the Highline- the West Side Highway. Cars speed through, moving people from one place to another, enclosed in their vehicles and disconnected from the world you occupy. Below your feet, planks sewn between vegetation signal the path. The surface is softer and has more give than the city streets, the softness of the wood a welcome relief from the concrete pavement you traverse otherwise.
Just ahead, you see the manifestation of what this place once was. A building straddling the elevated path you follow. Along the course of your path, you’ve seen hints at the original use of the space- steel railings, bits of track, crossties…each peeking out from the planks and paths. But now it becomes clearer, that this was a place of transportation not of people, but for trains. As you enter the void beneath the building, your skin feels relief from the rays of the sun. You stop, taking a moment as your pupils dilate to absorb the intricacies of this new environment. You become aware that you have entered a new space, one that seems to interlock and be connected with a hotel. You look up and see something that is both curious and thought-provoking. You look towards the windows on the left and see guests checking in and walking towards their rooms. On the right you see a bar, completely still and full of daylight. You feel that you have been given a secret peek at something the bar patrons who fill it each night will never know. Your view is open, bright, all-revealing. Theirs is inhibited by the darkness, masses of people, and an intoxication of both alcohol and excitement for what the night holds. As you emerge into the daylight again, you squint your eyes and allow your eyes adjust to the dramatic change in light. You continue on your way, with the feeling of having taken a short excursion to a different space, twice removed from the streets below.

Hotel Guest
April, 4:00pm

As the cab pulls up to the valet, a man opens your door and begins to assist you with your luggage. It is a simple, yet welcome luxury after having spent several hours on a plane, then in an uncomfortable cab, waiting in traffic to finally arrive at your temporary home in Manhattan. As you ascend from the ground level to the main lobby above, you can immediately sense a shift in the level of activity, noise and visual stimulation that are inherent to the streets of the city. Once you reach the top, you walk towards the registration desk. To the right, you see outside, towards the High Line. Pedestrians are walking through, looking up and looking in. Some are stopped, resting in the shade that the building provides. Looking out towards the High Line piques your curiosity and draws you towards it. You wish that the hotel employee would hurry up so that you can go explore. You continue towards the elevators, which are beyond the front registration desk. In this transition space, you are able to get a better glimpse at the Highline, as well as the bar on the opposite side. Once you reach your floor, you walk past several doorways, checking the number on each one to help you determine how close you are and on what side your room will be. Once you reach your room, you set down your bags near the doorway and walk immediately towards the windows to take in the view.

Hotel Manager
September, 9:30am

The A/C/E subway has dropped you off two blocks from your office at 14th Street and 8th Avenue. You weave through pedestrians who are bustling past, zombie-like, on their way to work. You hear the air brakes and the beeps that accompany the lowering of a bus that pulls up next to the curb. A woman in beautiful clothing picks up after her dog and strides away, in a focused, quick pace towards a trash can and then around the corner. Shop owners are opening the gates on their storefronts and people sit at café tables reading the paper and drinking coffee. You cross 9th Avenue and continue through the Meatpacking District stepping over bits of food trash that was discarded while wet but has been smushed into the sidewalk and baked on. There are far fewer cars and people now, and the air hangs quietly. The meat deliveries were made and the club kids went home hours ago in the early dawn. The activity that defines this block will not begin again until after night falls. As you instinctively step aside to avoid a homeless man pushing his cart, you look into the windows of Stella McCartney, seeing a trace of your reflection. Upon arriving at work, you enter the hotel offices on the ground floor of the building. You review the day’s schedule, checking to see how many guests will be checking in and out of the hotel, making sure the housekeeping staff is ready and a meeting with the bar manager. Your office is lit mostly by artificial light, as it receives no direct sunlight due to the fact that it is underneath the elevated High Line. This is in stark contrast with the hotel above, which is full of daylight. You don’t mind because you spend most of the day in meetings off-site and making the rounds through the hotel space.