I Was So Ill I Couldn’t Walk Until a Fellow Passenger Virtually Carried Me to the Toilets.

During my nineteenth year, my regular journey to work involved an packed public transport. The vehicle was always crowded and invariably became standing room only when I got on.

During a certain commute, I was feeling incredibly sick when the coach rocked around each corner. I kept telling myself to endure just a little longer so the bus could got to my destination, at which point I could sprint quickly for the nearest washroom to throw up.

We were coming down the road leading to my stop and I realised I wasn’t going to last. In an instant, it seemed a curtain fell over me. Everything just went hazy and muffled; like someone had cut the sound. I thought, “I will lose consciousness”.

Thankfully, I was positioned close to the driver inside the vehicle, so I managed a couple of steps forward and requested that the driver to stop, explaining to him that I was about to vomit. He opened the doors and I stumbled out on to the pavement.

I was resolved not to vomit in front of multiple lanes of cars, so I picked myself up and began attempting to make my way toward the green space on the other side, where I believed it would allow me to find some privacy behind a bush to be sick. Yet I apparently lost consciousness. I was aware of my physical self, yet I was unable to walk or see properly, leading me to start inching my way to the grassy area.

“Are you okay, dear?”

Right then, I got scooped up. I sensed a strong arm supporting me and heard a man say, “You right, love?” I managed to tell the unknown man that I needed to vomit. Therefore, he almost supported my weight down into a close-by structure and guided me inside the women’s restroom. He inquired whether I required him to remain with me but I declined.

Not long after, I regained my composure to the point of sitting down when from beyond the door I heard his voice asking, “Are you feeling better, dear? Can I get you something?” I wasn’t able to stand up just then but did manage to say thank you and shortly thereafter regained the function of my legs. I got myself home and then spent several days recovering from which was a nasty tummy bug.

I did not see his features – just his lower half and the big container for tools he held – but he helped me, during a time when I was at my most vulnerable.

Many times, life 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 humanity’s innate tendency leans toward compassion, a trait I cherish in other people.