I Was So Ill I Couldn’t Walk Until a Fellow Passenger Essentially Lifted Me to a Restroom.

Back when I was nineteenth year, my regular journey to work involved an express bus. It was perpetually full and would always be standing room only once I got on.

During a certain commute, I began feeling incredibly sick when the coach lurched around every turn. I kept telling myself to persevere for a few more stops so the bus could arrived at my stop, and then I could rush hurriedly toward the most convenient washroom to be sick.

The bus was approaching the road leading to the destination as I realised I was unable to make it. All of a sudden, it was like a curtain fell over me. Everything just went white and really quiet; as if someone cut the sound. I thought, “I’m going to faint”.

Fortunately, I stood close to the driver of the bus, so I managed a couple of steps toward the driver and told the operator to stop, telling him I needed to get ill. The driver opened the bus doors and I weakly exited onto the sidewalk.

I was resolved to not get sick before six lanes of traffic, so I forced myself up and started trying to make my way to the park opposite the street, thinking I could I’d at least be able to secretly conceal myself behind a bush to vomit. But then I apparently fainted. I sensed my physical self, yet I was unable to walk and my vision was blurry, leading me to start crawling towards the park.

“Everything alright, love?”

Right then, someone picked me up. There was someone holding me and a man’s voice asked, “You right, love?” I explained to this mysterious stranger that I needed to be sick. Thus, he practically supported my weight down into a close-by structure and put me in the ladies’ toilets. He wanted to know if I wanted him to wait for me but I refused.

After a short while, I regained my composure sufficiently to sit on the restroom floor and from the other side of the door came him inquire, “Do you need anything, love? Can I get you something?” I was incapable to rise just then but did manage to express my gratitude and shortly thereafter was able to move my feet. I got myself home and then spent several days recovering from what turned out to be a nasty tummy bug.

I did not see the stranger’s face – just his lower half along with a sizable steelwork tools container he was carrying – yet he rescued me, when I was at my most vulnerable.

Many times, life has a way of making you defensive, aggressive and competitive. What he did was the kind of action that undoes that hardening of the heart. He was proof that humanity’s innate tendency leans toward compassion, a quality I adore about my fellow humans.