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

Back when I was 19 years old, my morning travel involved an packed public transport. It remained jammed and was consistently standing room only once I got on.

During a certain commute, I was feeling terribly ill while the vehicle swayed around each corner. I kept telling myself to persevere another few kilometres before the bus arrived at my destination, so I could then sprint quickly for the nearest public toilet to vomit.

We were coming down the avenue close to my stop and it dawned on me I wasn’t going to hold on. All of a sudden, it seemed a curtain fell over me. The world became hazy and muffled; as if someone turned off the audio. My mind raced, “I will lose consciousness”.

Thankfully, I was positioned toward the front on the bus, so I managed a few steps forward and requested that the driver to open the doors, explaining to him I was going to be sick. He opened the bus doors and I stumbled out onto the sidewalk.

I was determined not to vomit before multiple lanes of cars, so I forced myself up and began attempting to make my way toward the green space opposite the street, where I believed I could at least secretly conceal myself among some shrubs to throw up. Yet I likely fainted. I could feel my limbs, but walking was impossible or see properly, so I started inching my way to the park.

“Everything alright, love?”

In that instant, I got scooped up. I felt someone holding me and heard a man say, “Are you okay, dear?” I managed to tell the unknown man that I had to to get to a bathroom. Thus, he practically helped me walk down into a nearby building and placed me inside the women’s restroom. He wanted to know whether I required him to wait for me but I said no.

A few minutes later, I had recovered enough to sit down and from outside the door I heard him inquire, “Are you OK, love? Is there anything you require?” I was incapable to rise just then but did manage to express my gratitude and shortly thereafter recovered the use of my limbs. I got myself home passing the following days healing from which was a nasty tummy bug.

I did not see his features – just his lower half along with a sizable steelwork tools container he was carrying – but he saved me, during a time when I was in my weakest state.

Many times, life can make you defensive, aggressive and competitive. What he did was the kind of action that undoes that hardening of the heart. He demonstrated that our default setting is to be kind, a trait I cherish in other people.