It is nearly as wide as it is long, yet it is barely as tall as your head. And while the walls are all an oily brown, the floor and ceiling are a greasy white. No, there are no two ways about it: standing in this hall is like standing inside of a pizza box. The hallway dips at its center—perhaps under the weight of 41st Street, perhaps under the weight of some mammoth municipal calzone—and at the other end it opens onto a kind of basement concourse. You don't have the time to take it all in.
You see stairs. If you take them up, because that is what the attendant at the information booth told you to do, click here.
You see a wall of "New York City Information" pamphlets. If you read them, because you are unable to resist such temptations, click here.
You see a glowing sign pointing toward "Peter Pan." If you follow it, click here.
There is also a Hudson News on this concourse. If you examine its offerings, click here.