One time I lived in a building where residents had access to the roof. To reach it, you climbed up a very narrow ladder and pulled yourself out of a hatch that wasn't much wider than one's body. Each person who made the climb emerged from the center of the barren rooftop, looking like a Whack-A-Mole. The roof was painted silver, some parts had a tar-like softness, and we didn't have any chairs, or cushions, or blankets, or anything that would make the roof more comfortable to sit on. The Hotel on Rivington had just gone up flush against our two-story building, and lower-floor tourists could look out directly at us, as we drank Night Train out of a brown paper bag, as we discussed Livin' the Dream. This kind of rooftop isn't for everyone, however.

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Over in Tribeca, HMWhite Architects has transformed a barren rooftop, probably not unlike the one described above, into a paradise that does not look unlike the High Line.

According to Curbed, the architects were charged with turning the "penthouse terrace into a verdant oasis... spread over a series of outdoor spaces." There are terraces, a reflecting pool with lily pads, a stainless steel hot tub, wildflowers, a lawn, wooden benches, and other things you'd find in Heaven if you could afford to get in. Also: "a grass and concrete checkerboard and a series of undulating knolls depict a rolling prairie." Sounds like a nice place to twist open a Night Train and listen to some Creedence.