In Such Poor Health I Couldn’t Walk Until a Fellow Passenger Essentially Lifted Me to a Bathroom.

Back when I was nineteenth year, my regular journey to work involved an express bus. It was perpetually full and would always be completely full by the time I stepped aboard.

During a certain commute, I began feeling quite nauseous as the bus lurched around every turn. I repeatedly told myself to persevere another few kilometres so the bus could reached my destination, at which point I could make a mad dash for the nearest public restroom to vomit.

As we neared the road leading to the destination as I realised I was unable to last. All of a sudden, it seemed a veil came over me. Everything just went hazy and muffled; like someone had muted everything. My mind raced, “I am about to pass out”.

Fortunately, I stood toward the front on the bus, so I managed a few steps forward and told the operator to pull over, telling him that I was about to be sick. He opened the entrance and I hurriedly stepped on to the pavement.

My intention was not to vomit before six lanes of traffic, so I picked myself up and started trying to stumble across to the park across the road, thinking I could I could at least find some privacy among some shrubs to throw up. Yet I likely lost consciousness. I was aware of my limbs, but I couldn’t walk and my vision was blurry, leading me to start dragging myself toward my intended destination.

“Everything alright, love?”

In that instant, I was lifted up. I felt someone holding me and a man’s voice asked, “Everything alright, love?” I told this unknown man that I had to to vomit. Therefore, he almost carried me into a nearby building and placed me into the female bathroom. He wanted to know if I wanted him to wait for me but I refused.

Not long after, I felt better sufficiently to sit down when from beyond the door came him ask, “Are you feeling better, dear? Do you need anything?” I was incapable to stand up at that moment but I did succeed to thank him and shortly thereafter regained the function of my limbs. I got myself home and spent several days recovering from what was later diagnosed as a nasty tummy bug.

I never saw that man’s face – merely his legs and the big steelwork tools container he had with him – but he saved me, at a moment I was in my weakest state.

Often this world has a way of making you guarded, hostile, and combative. What he did was the kind of action that melts away that protective shell. He served as evidence that our default setting is to be kind, something I love about humanity.