At the age of my late teens, my daily commute was on an packed public transport. It remained jammed and was consistently standing room only when I boarded.
On one specific day, I started experiencing incredibly sick when the coach rocked around the bends. I continuously reassured myself to endure just a little longer so the bus could arrived at my destination, at which point I could rush hurriedly toward the most convenient public toilet to be sick.
We were coming down the street towards the stop when it dawned on me I would not be to hold on. In an instant, it seemed a curtain fell over me. My vision turned white and really quiet; like someone had muted everything. My mind raced, “I’m going to faint”.
Fortunately, I stood toward the front on the bus, so I managed a few steps toward the driver and told the operator to open the doors, informing him I was going to get ill. He promptly opened the doors and I weakly exited on to the pavement.
I was determined not to vomit before six lanes of traffic, so I picked myself up and started trying to make my way across to the park across the road, where I thought it would allow me to discreetly hide behind a bush to throw up. Yet I apparently blacked out. I could feel my limbs, but I couldn’t walk or see properly, leading me to start inching my way to the grassy area.
“Everything alright, love?”
At that moment, someone picked me up. I sensed a strong arm supporting me and a stranger inquired, “You right, love?” I managed to tell the mysterious stranger that I needed to vomit. Thus, he practically carried me down into a close-by structure and guided me in the ladies’ toilets. He asked me if I wanted him to wait for me but I declined.
Not long after, I felt better to the point of sitting on the restroom floor when from beyond the door came his voice asking, “Are you OK, love? Can I get you something?” I wasn’t able to stand up right away but I was able to thank him and shortly thereafter regained the function of my feet. I made my way home passing several days recovering from what was later diagnosed as a severe stomach virus.
I did not see that man’s face – merely his legs and a large container for tools he had with him – but he saved me, when I was at my most vulnerable.
Many times, life has a way of making you defensive, aggressive and competitive. His act was the type of kindness that melts away that emotional callousness. He served as evidence that humanity’s innate tendency is to be kind, a trait I cherish about my fellow humans.
