I fell down the stairs in DeBartolo.

There's nothing quite so embarrassing as falling down stairs. It's like screaming, "Look! I don't know how to walk! I'm incapable of putting one foot in front of the other! I don't know how light switches work either!" I felt like I was back in high school, a freshman falling on the senior stairs.

But in my defense, the stairs were slippery with all the melted snow carried in on people's boots. Anyway, it was at 3:15 on a Tuesday afternoon, when the halls were full of masses of students rushing to get out of DeBartolo. I slipped, my feet went out from under me, and I took a beautiful fall — an arms-in-the-air, limbs-flying, hip-banging, arm-whacking sort of fall. It hurt. It startled me. Why was I suddenly on my butt when seconds ago I was walking down the stairs like a normal person?

The stairs were packed with people, a veritable sea of humanity. It took me a minute to get reoriented, to regain my feet (and my dignity) and to continue on my way.

A couple of my fellow students snickered at my plight. But everyone else hurried on to the next class. Not a single person offered me a hand up. Not a single person asked, "Are you okay?" NOT A SINGLE PERSON. Not one of my fellow Domers could be bothered to take a minute out of his busy day and offer me a hand or inquire if I needed help. I was just another obstacle in the day, just one more thing to be hurried past and stepped around. Most people didn't even bother to look at me.

Now, granted, this is a small incident. If I had seen me fall, I probably would have laughed. It was funny. It's a natural human reaction to laugh when someone falls. But it's also a natural human reaction to ask, "Are you all right?"

There's this story of a class of divinity students who had the room assignment changed for their final exam. As they rushed to the other side of campus to make the final on time, they were stopped by a homeless person asking for change. Not a single person stopped. They all arrived at their final to discover that that WAS their final, and none of them had passed.

I'm told the story's apocryphal. But it makes a good point.

Most of the students who passed me on the stairs were probably involved in volunteer service — 77 percent of Domers are. Lots of them were probably hurrying off to the CSC or to tutoring projects or similar service activities.

Yet not one of them had the time to offer a hand to me when I fell. Not a single person could turn from their mindless following of the DeBartolo herd to ask if I was all right. I sat there with my twisted ankle, wounded dignity and bruised pride, and was startled to discover that nobody was willing to stop and help me to my feet.

Helping others isn't something you get to schedule from 2 to 4 p.m. on Mondays and Wednesdays. Helping others is something you do when you see limbs flying and bodies falling on the stairs at 3:15 on a Tuesday afternoon in DeBartolo. Or whenever else someone needs it.

• Tumbling Down