Feeling So Sick Walking Was Impossible As a Stranger Essentially Lifted Me to a Bathroom.

At the age of 19 years old, my morning travel involved an crowded coach. It remained crowded and invariably became standing room only when I boarded.

One particular morning, I was feeling terribly ill when the coach lurched around the bends. I kept telling myself to persevere just a little longer until the bus arrived at where I needed to get off, at which point I could rush hurriedly toward the most convenient public restroom to be sick.

The bus was approaching the road leading to my stop and I understood I would not be to last. In an instant, it was like a fog descended upon me. Everything just went hazy and muffled; like someone had cut the sound. I said to myself, “I’m going to faint”.

Fortunately, I stood near the front on the bus, allowing me to take a couple of steps toward the driver and requested that the driver to stop, telling him I needed to vomit. He promptly opened the doors and I hurriedly stepped on to the pavement.

My intention was to not get sick in front of multiple lanes of cars, so I forced myself up and started trying to walk to the park on the other side, where I thought it would allow me to find some privacy among some shrubs to be sick. But then I apparently blacked out. I sensed my body but walking was impossible or see properly, leading me to start inching my way to my intended destination.

“Everything alright, love?”

In that instant, I was lifted up. I felt a strong arm supporting me and heard a man say, “Are you okay, dear?” I explained to this kind passerby that I required to vomit. So he virtually supported my weight over to a close-by structure and put me inside the women’s restroom. He asked me if I wanted him to stay with me but I said no.

After a short while, I felt better sufficiently to sit down and from outside the door I heard him inquire, “Are you OK, love? Do you need anything?” I could not to stand up right away but I did succeed to say thank you and shortly thereafter was able to move my limbs. I got myself home passing the following days healing from what turned out to be a horrible case of gastroenteritis.

I never saw the stranger’s face – only his legs along with a sizable steelwork tools container he held – but he saved me, when I was at my most vulnerable.

Many times, life tends to make people defensive, aggressive and competitive. His was the sort of gesture that undoes that hardening of the heart. He was proof that humanity’s innate tendency is to be kind, a trait I cherish about my fellow humans.