Feeling So Sick I Couldn’t Walk When a Man Practically Supported Me to a Restroom.

Back when I was nineteenth year, my morning travel meant taking an crowded coach. The vehicle was always jammed and was consistently standing room only once I stepped aboard.

During a certain commute, I started experiencing incredibly sick when the coach swayed around every turn. I continuously reassured myself to persevere just a little longer so the bus could got to my stop, and then I could make a mad dash toward the most convenient public toilet to be sick.

We were coming down the street towards my stop and it dawned on me I would not be to make it. Suddenly, it felt as if a curtain fell over me. Everything just went hazy and muffled; similar to when one cut the sound. I said to myself, “I will lose consciousness”.

Fortunately, I stood close to the driver inside the vehicle, so I took a few steps forward and asked the driver to open the doors, informing him I was going to vomit. He opened the doors and I stumbled out onto the sidewalk.

I was resolved to not get sick in view of multiple lanes of cars, so I picked myself up and started trying to stumble across to the park opposite the street, where I believed I could at least discreetly hide near some foliage to be sick. Yet I apparently fainted. I was aware of my limbs, but walking was impossible or see clearly, so I began crawling towards the park.

“Are you okay, dear?”

Right then, I got scooped up. I felt someone holding me and a man’s voice asked, “You right, love?” I told this kind passerby that I had to to get to a bathroom. Thus, he practically helped me walk into an adjacent building and put me into the female bathroom. He wanted to know if I needed him to stay with me but I said no.

A few minutes later, I regained my composure sufficiently to sit on the toilet and from outside the door I heard him ask, “Do you need anything, love? Can I get you something?” I wasn’t able to get up at that moment but I did succeed to express my gratitude and shortly thereafter recovered the use of my limbs. I made my way home and spent the next few days getting over what was later diagnosed as a severe stomach virus.

I did not see his features – just his lower half along with a sizable metal toolbox he had with him – but he saved me, at a moment I was in my weakest state.

Often this world can make you self-protective, pushy, and rivalrous. His was the sort of gesture that reverses that emotional callousness. He served as evidence that humanity’s innate tendency leans toward compassion, a trait I cherish about my fellow humans.