Feeling So Sick I Couldn’t Walk As a Stranger Practically Supported Me to a Bathroom.

At the age of 19 years old, my morning travel involved an crowded coach. It was perpetually full and was consistently without any seats once I stepped aboard.

On one specific day, I began feeling terribly ill when the coach swayed around every turn. I repeatedly told myself to persevere for a few more stops until the bus reached my destination, at which point I could sprint quickly to the closest public restroom to be sick.

As we neared the street towards my stop and it dawned on me I wasn’t going to hold on. All of a sudden, it felt as if a curtain fell over me. The world became white and really quiet; similar to when one turned off the audio. I said to myself, “I am about to pass out”.

Fortunately, I stood toward the front inside the vehicle, so I managed several steps to ask the driver and requested that the driver to open the doors, explaining to him I needed to be sick. He promptly opened the doors and I hurriedly stepped onto the sidewalk.

I was resolved to avoid being sick in view of six lanes of traffic, so I picked myself up and started trying to walk toward the green space opposite the street, thinking I could I’d at least be able to find some privacy among some shrubs to vomit. Yet I apparently fainted. I could feel my physical self, yet I was unable to walk or see properly, so I began inching my way to the grassy area.

“You right, love?”

At that moment, I got scooped up. I sensed an arm around my waist and a man’s voice asked, “Everything alright, love?” I managed to tell the mysterious stranger that I required to vomit. So he virtually helped me walk down into a nearby building and guided me in the ladies’ toilets. He inquired whether I required him to stay with me but I said no.

A few minutes later, I had recovered sufficiently to sit on the restroom floor when from beyond the door came his voice asking, “Are you OK, love? Can I get you something?” I could not to stand up at that moment but did manage to thank him and following a brief period regained the function of my feet. I returned home and spent the following days recovering from which was a nasty tummy bug.

I never glimpsed his features – only his legs along with a sizable steelwork tools container he had with him – but he saved me, when I was completely helpless.

Frequently, society can make you self-protective, pushy, and rivalrous. His was the sort of gesture that reverses that hardening of the heart. He was proof that humanity’s innate tendency leans toward compassion, something I love about my fellow humans.