The suitcase enjoying all of that room to itself is owned by the balding man.
The suitcase enjoying all of that room to itself is owned by the balding man. Charles Mudede

During a recent light-rail trip between Columbia City and Beacon Hill, a certain individual gave his stylish suitcase the space of three seats, and as a consequence a number of riders were left standing. I at first wanted this post to be about the root and nature of this type of individual and about how he and others like him should face some form of punishment for refusing to be social. Clearly, the new public announcements that politely inform passengers that public transportation is not an individual's living room on wheels aren't having much of an impact. Some American habits, it seems, can only be corrected with a stick. But I'm not going to get into all that because something more interesting happened during this trip: A beggar appeared on the train and went from passenger to passenger asking for money. Now, this incident was worth the time and effort of a morning post.

What the beggar indicated to me was the maturity of Link, which still only runs between the airport and downtown. A Link in its youth is utilized only by those who have hard plans, who want to get from A to B and that's it. A mature Link is one that's seen to be more than a mode of transportation but a moving niche of opportunity. This beggar (a woman in her early 40s) wasn't taking the train like the rest of us; she was using it. Indeed, when I saw her approaching me, my thoughts sank into the past, sank into an old subway station in Barcelona. I was there in 2013, waiting for a particular train. When it arrived, I entered, sat down, and began looking at the fascinating variety of Spanish faces and colors.

A few stops later, a Spanish beggar entered, asked for money, got nothing, and exited at the next stop, where another beggar boarded and showed each passenger the hardship of one arm, a few loose-looking teeth, and clothes whose tattered state was almost theatrical. I gave this one money. Later, as the train went aboveground, and the green-blue Mediterranean dazzled the windows on the west side of the ancient and rattling train (I was heading to a castle in San Pol de Mar), another beggar entered the car and started handing out cards. I got mine. I held it in my hand. What was I to do with it?

My mind was trying to remember what was on this card (something from the Bible? Or was it in a language I can't read? Or was it just red with some enigma in the middle?), when the doors for Beacon Hill abruptly opened and the present beggar de-trained without a gain. Link had finally arrived. It was now something like a young adult.