Welcome to America

It was not without some trepidation that the Dowbrigade
waited in the bowels of Logan Airport for the arrival of AA flight 286
from San Jose, California. Aboard, at least in theory, were 12 Japanese
undergraduate business majors who would be under our tutelage for the
next 4 weeks. Not a very big group, and not a very long program, but
in these Ameraphobic times we need all the live bodies we can get on
campus.

Didn’t have much data on the incoming crew. 10 girls and two guys. 19
and 20 years old. From a rural backwater on some southern island. Low
TOEFL
scores. First time in America, first time out of Japan, first time away
from their parents, most of them. A perfect recipe for trouble.

We were supposed to meet the flight and bustle the bunch off to their hotel,
scenically situated in the heart of the Theater District Since flight 286
wasn’t due until after 10 pm, and by the time we got their luggage and
made it to the hotel and checked in it would be past midnight, and they
were supposed to be on campus and ready for their first class at 9 the
next morning. we had volunteered to stay the night at the hotel with them,
and in the morning show them how to get to campus on the T.

Bragging on the fact that we were looking forward to a night at a fancy
downtown hotel on the clock for our employer we discovered that the hotel
in question, although quite upscale and respectable, was considered a "festive" hotel,
so to speak, catering to theater people of unconventional lifestyle.

Which we think is absolutely fantastic and a great opportunity for these
Japanese kids, who according to their PR, are here to "explore the
diversity of the American business environment". We couldn’t think
of a more appropriate or conducive setting for their exploration.

Suddenly, our reverie was interrupted. They were calling flight 268, baggage
on carousel A. We staked it out and waited. And waited. We were about to
give up, and were considering the exact tone of our plaintive call back
to headquarters, when we spied a nervous knot of Asians oozing in slow
stutter steps, toward the baggage belt.

A rough head count reported about a dozen, and with no other groups of
Asians to be seen, this had to be our guys. We approached and confirmed.
There were 13 of them, actually, although the last was a teacher, Hiroko,
who was easy to mistake for one of the students, especially for the Dowbrigade,
who has always been at a hopeless loss in estimating the ages of women.

They were stunned and staggered, and seemed almost completely incapable
of understanding normal spoken English. We asked them how their flight
was, and was met with blank stares. We asked if they knew which carousel
their luggage would be on (a little test, as we already knew) and were
met with idiot grins and nodding heads. Hell, we figured, they just got
off a 27 hour flight, if we were arriving in Japan like that we would be
in a lot worse shape than they are.

It was now half an hour after the flight arrived, and none of their bags
had appeared yet. It seemed that all of the other people who arrived at
the same time as my guys had long ago taken their suitcases and left. We
were mentally running down the lost baggage routine when we noticed that
the group had shrunk to 10. We hadn’t even left the airport and we were
already losing students, not to mention luggage.

Turns out Hiroko the teacher and two of the students had left to go back
to the gate, because one of the girls though she had left her cell phone
on the plane. Great.

Just as the bags finally hove into sight, the missing three reappeared,
sans cell phone, and also claimed their luggage. When the last piece was
safely in hand, following precise instructions, we phoned Back Bay Limo
company to send a pair of vans to take us to the hotel. With body language
and over-enunciation we got them to grasp the concept "follow me" and
led them to the curb outside baggage area A.

Once we arrived, the place was all we had hoped it would be. Funky and
comfy and impeccable decorated, the joint was literally in the midst of
all the big theaters and just a couple of blocks from the Boston Common.
The night desk clerk who registered us was very friendly and efficient,
and the students were off to their rooms before midnight.

We stayed in the small but comfortable lobby chatting up the desk clerk
until we started having second thoughts about just how friendly he was,
and tottled off to bed ourselves.

The room was neither luxurious nor spacious, but like the lobby was elegant
and comfortable, if a bit cramped. As we were only expecting to spend about
6 hours there, it was no big deal. We slept.

In the morning everyone was downstairs early to check out the "continental
breakfast" They were running on nervous energy, chattering away in
Japanese and avoiding us like we were the Man. Well, it was Monday morning
and they were supposed to be in class in a few minutes. Of course, to them
it was 9 at night, Japan time.

We knew they would run out of gas and collapse sometime in the next 48
hours, but they were young, healthy students and could take the shock.
And quite a shock it was – everything was different than it had been the
last time they woke up. New climate, new language, new customs, new faces,
new food, new smells, new transportation system, cars on the wrong side
of the road. No wonder they were shell-shocked.

Breakfast was dry cereal, coffee, milk, juice, and make-your-own waffles.
We served ourselves a quick cup of coffee and an OJ and sat down to observe
the visiting wildlife. They seemed like pretty normal 19-year olds, jabbering
away, listing to diskmans, de rigueur T-shirts and jeans. But there was
a lot of nervous giggling and herding going on. They were scared and insecure.
We hadn’t heard a single word of English yet, which was starting to worry
us, in our professional capacity.

As we sat, sipping our coffee and sizing up the human resources we will
be working with during the upcoming weeks, a tall portly officious-looking
dude approached and asked, "Are you in charge of this group?" He
looked professionally perturbed, and his rather obvious rug was slightly
askew to the left.

With typical Dowbrigade gallantry we tried to deny this, and slough the
guy off to Hiroko, "Not me. I’m just one of their teachers the university
sent over to show them how to get to campus. The person in charge is that
woman over there, who came with them from Japan."

Didn’t work. "I’d like to see you both in my office right now," he
huffed officiously.

His office, like every other room we had seen so far, was stylish but cramped,
as though the Queer Eye guys had done over a broom closet. He told us to
take a seat, although both of the available chairs were covered with notebooks,
sheafs of paper, magazines and leather-bound address and appointment books.
We cleared one off for Hiroko, piled all of the junk on the other, and
stood.

“I have to inform you, that although we were delighted to accept your group
on short notice, there are certain rules of behavior that we insist on
in our hotel. There was a major disaster this morning in the breakfast
room."

We winced, invisibly we hoped, and our imagination began working overtime.
Did one of the students come down naked? Had there been a butter-knife
fight over the last sweet roll? Had someone had an attack or epileptic
fit before we had come down? We waited breathlessly for the disastrous
news.

"First of all," began the overstuffed gentleman, who appeared to be
the day manager, "all of your students came down for breakfast at
the same time. As you can see, our breakfast room is quite small. From
now on, I would like you to make a schedule so that no more than 3 students
eats breakfast at one time."

Sure, we thought, we can schedule them in 15 minute slots starting at 7
am. Everyone know the Japanese are a severely regimented people. They should
take to it like ducks to water.

"But much worse than that," continued the manager in sonorous tones, "is
the manner in which they mistreated the breakfast machinery. They attempted
to use the waffle iron without spraying it with the protective cooking
lubricant, and the batter stuck to the metal, requiring a member of my
staff to clean it before it could be used again. They also used 72 ounces
of hot water, most of which they left lying in cups around the service
area. If this continues, we will be forced to ask your group to find lodging
elsewhere."

We had had about enough of this ridiculous rant. "Excuse me, but these
students just got off of a 27-hour international flight. They have never
been to the United States before. They are not familiar with American breakfast
customs or your machines. Perhaps if a member of your staff could quickly
explain how to use them these problems could be avoided."

He looked shocked and offended at the suggestion. "I can’t spare a
member of my staff," he huffed, "and for that reason I am telling
YOU, and I expect you to inform the students. I will NOT tolerate another
major disaster such as we had this morning."

We had about had it with this guy. "I must say, you are a very fortunate
establishment. I guess in all the years you have been open you have never
had a guest suffer a heart attack in the breakfast room, never had a fist
fight between estranged lovers, never had a theater queen throw a drunken
hissy fit in the lobby, or start a fire smoking crack in one of your rooms?
Boy, if this qualifies as a major disaster, you guys have been really lucky,
so far…."

He was aghast, at a loss for words, uncertain whether to just toss me out
or call the cops. Luckily, Hiroko broke in and defused the situation. "Please
forgive us, this is our first day in your country. I will speak to the
students and make sure they don’t touch any of the equipment. I assure
you it will not happen again. Now, please with your permission, I must
get them ready to attend class."

He let us go, his discontent at not having had the opportunity to put us
in our place counterbalanced by relief at getting us out of his office
and his hotel as quickly as possible. We thanked Hiroko for the assist
and began herding the flock towards the Boylston Street subway station.
A new semester had begun.

Postscript: It is now day four of this group’s four week program, and we
are relieved to report that they DO know how to speak English a little,
although they remain intimidated and reluctant to do so. Our main job over
the coming weeks is to give them enough confidence and comfort to start
using the English they already know, which they learned in Japan. Four
weeks is really too little time to teach them much new stuff. Mostly, this
is a chance for them to learn a little about American culture and to activate
all of the passive English knowledge they have been accumulating for years
at home.