Feeling So Sick I Couldn’t Walk As a Stranger Essentially Lifted Me to the Toilets.

During my my late teens, my daily commute meant taking an packed public transport. The vehicle was always full and invariably became completely full once I boarded.

During a certain commute, I was feeling terribly ill when the coach lurched around every turn. I kept telling myself to hold on another few kilometres so the bus could reached where I needed to get off, so I could then sprint quickly toward the most convenient washroom to be sick.

We were coming down the avenue close to the destination as it dawned on me I was unable to last. All of a sudden, it seemed a curtain fell over me. Everything just went blank and silent; like someone had cut the sound. I said to myself, “I’m going to faint”.

Thankfully, I was positioned close to the driver inside the vehicle, so I managed a couple of steps toward the driver and asked the driver to open the doors, telling him I was going to vomit. The driver opened the bus doors and I hurriedly stepped onto the sidewalk.

I was determined not to vomit before a busy multi-lane road, so I picked myself up and endeavored to walk toward the green space opposite the street, where I believed I could at least find some privacy near some foliage to vomit. But then I must have blacked out. I was aware of my body but I was unable to walk or see clearly, so I began crawling towards the park.

“Are you okay, dear?”

Right then, someone picked me up. I felt someone holding me and a man’s voice asked, “Are you okay, dear?” I told this unknown man that I had to to get to a bathroom. So he virtually supported my weight into a close-by structure and guided me inside the women’s restroom. He inquired if I needed him to remain with me but I said no.

After a short while, I regained my composure to the point of sitting down when from beyond the door came him inquire, “Are you feeling better, dear? Is there anything you require?” I was incapable to get up just then but did manage to express my gratitude and after a few more minutes regained the function of my feet. I got myself home and spent several days healing from which was a severe stomach virus.

I did not see that man’s face – just his lower half along with a sizable steelwork tools container he was carrying – but he saved me, at a moment I was in my weakest state.

Many times, life tends to make people guarded, hostile, and combative. What he did was the kind of action that undoes that hardening of the heart. He was proof that our default setting is to be kind, a trait I cherish in other people.