Flying Through Time Zones

Before Japan, I would have never rated excellent customer service as a must-have. Our customer service in the States isn't the worse in the world (ahem, Spanish waiters and snobby Parisians!), but it's not uncommon to encounter an impolite waitress, store clerk, etc. Air travel is no exception, I've learned...

The first time I arranged a flight by myself for a five-week study program in Paris, I hadn't realized that special meals needed to be ordered beforehand. When meal time came around, I asked for a vegetarian meal on board. To my major disappointment, the flight attendant told me that I had to have pre-ordered it a couple of days before the flight. She then asked if I preferred chicken or beef. >_< The passenger sitting next to me came to my rescue. He had ordered a vegetarian meal for religious reasons, but only needed to eat it during certain days of the week. But just as a precaution, he always ordered vegetarian meals when flying. Luckily, the man was able to eat meat that day, so he took my meal and gave me his vegetarian one. I consider him one of the “guardian angels” that I have been lucky enough to encounter during my travels.

Last year, when I was going home to visit my family, I had forgotten to order a vegetarian meal. I realized this less than 24 hours before the flight. At the airport in Japan, I bought some onigiri, “rice balls”, in preparation. Still, when the flight attendant came around, I mentioned to her that I was vegetarian and couldn't have the meal they were offering. The flight attendant was a Japanese woman, and when I told her I wasn't going to eat due to my lack of planning, she told me to wait a moment and started scrambling around the airplane. I could see her talking to other flight attendants, until she disappeared out of sight. When she came back, she had two bread rolls, two salads, and a small bowl of fruit in her hand. She apologized for the “meager” findings and only felt comforted when I showed her my onigiri. And that my friends, is what I call superb customer service, and I frequently encountered it in Japan.

I'm sure you can see how it's hard to go back to average customer service once you get used to the star treatment.

I had only been back in the US for about a week, but I had already noticed the differences between my host country and my home country, tremendously. For one, having polite flight attendants on board is a hit or miss. On my flight from Los Angeles to Washington D.C., one of the flight attendants made me so angry. I was waiting for my turn to use the toilet, when the seat belt sign came on. I really had to pee, so I figured I could go quickly and then return to my seat. I know, dumb. Mind you, I was running on one hour of sleep. As I waited, I had a hand on my face and was leaning on the wall. At this point, a flight attendant approached me and mockingly copied my pose. He then said, “Do you see that sign, ma'am?” and pointed to the lit up reminder that I was not supposed to be there. His tone was so condescending!! I apologized and returned to my seat, angry at his attitude, angry that he was right about the rules, and angry at the fact that I still really needed to go pee. I was angry, because a simple, “Excuse me ma'am, the seat belt sign is on. Please return to your seat,” would have sufficed. Now, the me before Japan would have probably returned to her seat, rolled her eyes, and forgotten about it instantly. But this new me, Kelly post-Japan, gets really irritated by incidents like these. She has Japanese standards for service, but responds in a self-righteous American way, though she conceals her true emotions, like a Japanese person. I wish it weren't as complicated as it sounds.

I think the universe realized that throwing me back into American society, full force, is rather cruel, because of what happened after that flight. While I was waiting at the departure gate for my next flight, some beautiful children came running towards me and started marveling at the airplanes seen from the window behind me – in Japanese! Not only were they speaking Japanese, but they were speaking the regional dialect from the area I had been living in, Kansai. The children were half-Japanese and half-American, had been born in the US, but now live in Kyoto. They were on their way to San Francisco with their parents, and they were very curious as to why I was able to speak Japanese. (Don't be impressed, I have the ability to keep up with a 5 and 2 year old, apparently. And may I add that the 5 year old corrected me several times.) When their father apologized to me about his children “bothering” me, my Japanglish came rushing back. I replied, “It's no problem, I enjoyed it.” I sounded like a weirdo, but this kind of English is commonly heard in a land far, far away... I need a transition period, as awkward as it might be.

I'm happy to be home, but I really miss Japan. There, I said it!

Landing in Osaka after Thailand.