Years ago as I entered a local Target store, I noticed a tall, elegantly dressed woman saunter out of the restroom with the whole back of her dress stuffed into her control tops. Without thinking twice, I rushed up to her and covered her huge backside with my body and whispered sotto voce into her ear. She jumped at first, frightened by my nearness, then peered down over her shoulder at me. When it dawned on her what was wrong, she hissed at me to back up.
We shuffled backwards, vaudevillian-style, until we reached the bathrooms, but the moment she was within feet of the door, she flung me aside and leaped for cover. The door slammed in my face as I struggled to regain my balance.
Another time, I was coming out of a McDonald's when a man started out of the parking lot in his car. On the roof of his sedan was a cardboard carrier with four sodas and two large bags of food. I stepped out into his path, pointing to the roof of his car like an airplane attendant does when parking a plane.
The man looked at me in horror and swerved around me, squealing his tires as he sped for the exit. His sodas splashed onto the pavement; the bags of food went flying into the street. I bet he didn't discover his mistake until he reached home and the kids asked for their Happy Meals. He must have thought I was trying to solicit a ride, money, or - eek! - something else from him.
In either case, I did not get the keys to the city or a citation for my citizenship. I got nothing for risking my neck, other than horrified looks, but that is why it is called a random act of kindness. It is not often that one attempts such an intrusion. I succeeded in my efforts with the pantyhose mishap and failed in saving the family's dinner, and if I had to do it all over again - I would.