At the age of my late teens, my daily commute meant taking an packed public transport. It was perpetually jammed and would always be completely full by the time I boarded.
During a certain commute, I was feeling incredibly sick while the vehicle rocked around every turn. I repeatedly told myself to persevere just a little longer before the bus reached my stop, and then I could rush hurriedly toward the most convenient public restroom to vomit.
The bus was approaching the avenue close to the stop when I understood I would not be to last. All of a sudden, it was like a fog descended upon me. Everything just went hazy and muffled; similar to when one muted everything. My mind raced, “I am about to pass out”.
Fortunately, I stood near the front on the bus, so I took a couple of steps toward the driver and told the operator to open the doors, informing him I needed to be sick. He promptly opened the doors and I hurriedly stepped out onto the street.
I was resolved to avoid being sick before six lanes of traffic, so I forced myself up and began attempting to stumble to the park on the other side, where I believed it would allow me to discreetly hide among some shrubs to be sick. But then I likely lost consciousness. I was aware of my physical self, yet I was unable to walk or see properly, so I started crawling towards the park.
“Are you okay, dear?”
At that moment, I was lifted up. I felt an arm around my waist and heard a man say, “Are you okay, dear?” I explained to this kind passerby that I required to vomit. So he virtually helped me walk over to a nearby building and placed me in the ladies’ toilets. He asked me whether I required him to remain with me but I said no.
Not long after, I regained my composure to the point of sitting on the restroom floor and from outside the stall I heard him inquire, “Are you feeling better, dear? Can I get you something?” I could not to stand up at that moment but I was able to express my gratitude and following a brief period recovered the use of my limbs. I got myself home and spent several days recovering from what turned out to be a nasty tummy bug.
I never saw that man’s face – only his legs along with a sizable container for tools he held – but he saved me, during a time when I was at my most vulnerable.
Often this world can make you defensive, aggressive and competitive. His was the sort of gesture that melts away that protective shell. He was proof that people’s natural inclination leans toward compassion, a trait I cherish in other people.
A tech journalist and AI researcher with a passion for exploring how emerging technologies impact society and business.