A moment of handship

In metro or in the bus accidental touch is something disgusting and often is accompanied by an embarrassed smile. That’s like breaking a rule or something very personal.
One day I was waiting for a bus when on the stairs leading to the bus stop appeared a tramp. A woman, drunk, with a big stinking bag was balancing on the edge of the steps. She couldn’t walk down and was crying helplessly but angrily. People remarked her but nobody turned his head because it meant notifying her, so everybody was just looking sideways.
I was closer than anybody to this woman but also pretended not to see her. I think we all felt ashamed and disturbed because she was destroying the fragile image of our material and rather successful world of cars and well-dressed people. And then she addressed to me and asked to give her a hand to help her get downstairs. Well, maybe it was all in my head but I saw how certain heads turned in our direction with a scorn in their looks. With her or with us? Like giving her a hand meant to be expelled from their world. Their/our? OUR? Were they thinking about how long she hasn’t washed her hands?
And then all happened very quickly and simply. We carefully and slowly surmounted the steps
and that was all. But only for the second time of my life it was a moment of full happiness and first for doing something. So happy and delighted I was when an unknown little and very serious girl gave me a dandelion as a present.