(I am at a cafe at the departure lounge of the airport, queueing up behind some tourists heading home. Note: All the notes and coins are clearly marked.)

Tourist: “How much is this bottled water?”

Cashier: “It’s [amount], ma’am.”

Tourist: *shoving some change at the cashier* “Here.”

Cashier: “So sorry, but you are short by [amount].”

Tourist: *gives a note* “Fine. Here. I don’t understand your currency. I want my change in [Home Country’s currency].”

Cashier: “I’m sorry; I can only give you change in Thai Baht.”

Tourist: “This is outrageous! What kind of place is this that you can’t give me change in [Home Country’s currency]?!”

I go to China with my dad at a very young age. I am extremely tall, so when I interact with people in public, they treat me like a young adult, which is very confusing to me. I only speak Shanghainese, which is specific dialect that has no written language anymore. I know only basic Chinese.

The airport I am in is a lot less crowded than the one back home, but because I am still so young, I am holding onto my dad’s jacket as we walk around. In my head, it should be clear I am a child because of this.

My dad sits me down with our stuff near the bathroom as he leaves to do his business. Not even a minute later, a woman comes up to me and insists I sign something. I try to say my Chinese is not good, but she’s deaf and ignores this as she forces her clipboard into my hands.

Everything on that clipboard is written in Chinese, and I see names written down with numbers next to them, but no money sign of any sort. I shrug and figure she’s collecting signatures. I think that maybe the numbers are the time of day that people have signed, because they don’t go past 24, and because it is a different country I assume they have used military time.

I do my best to write my Chinese name, as my parents taught me, and I write 13.47 down, which is the time. When I give it back to the lady, she smiles and holds out her hand. I don’t know what she is doing and just shake her hand. This goes on for a bit as she gets increasingly more upset.

Eventually, she throws her hands in the air in frustration and shows me the clipboard again, jabbing at the number I wrote down. I keep trying to act out “I don’t know” to her, but she just scowls and keeps referring to the number. My dad finally comes out of the bathroom and sees what is going on. I think he is going to clear things up when he moves me and our stuff behind him as he goes to the woman.

Instead, he puts on a stone face after he sees the clipboard once, and mouths, “No, we don’t want to. We don’t have any,” in Chinese to the woman, while repeatedly waving his hand in her face until she scowls and leaves, glaring at me.

My dad tells me that she was a “donations collector” for deaf people and most likely came to the airport to try and find foreigners to get money off of. He also tells me that my behavior made it clear I was a foreigner because I was willing to listen and see what that woman was doing. According to him, local Chinese people know to shoo those types of people away, and that being rude is the only way to save your money and belongings in China if you’ve been “targeted.”

I’d like to say this wasn’t true, and I still try to be kind to people when I first meet them, but these types of situations continued to happen more times than I’d like to admit whenever I went back to China. I have indeed learned to ignore the “collectors” that wander in places that have many foreigners.

(My friends and I are going on holiday together. For one of them, this is his first ever flight, and his first time even at an airport. He’s a large bearded man, but a total kid. Understandably, he’s incredibly excited. He’s also not great with common sense.)

Friend: “Come on guys! Let’s go! Let’s go!”

(At this point, he’s literally bouncing up and down with his gigantic backpack on.)

Me: “Slow down, [Friend]; we need to clear our bags with security first.”

Friend: “Sweet! Race you there!”

Me: “[Friend], NO!”

(Cue a large, bearded man sprinting headlong towards security with a gigantic backpack. We practically had to tackle him. He honestly didn’t understand what he’d done wrong.)

(I’m getting a SIM card in Thailand. I am ethnic Chinese with an American passport. I am learning Vietnamese so I put my phone to Vietnamese. Though I can only read 10%, I am trying to force myself to learn the rest, since I generally know what it should say. The conversation is in English unless stated.)

Employee: “Passport, please, and your phone?”

Me: “Here you go.”

Employee: *in Vietnamese* “SIM card… inside…”

Me: *in Vietnamese* “Oh, my Vietnamese isn’t very good.” *in English* “English, please?”

Employee: “Idiot. Then why use Vietnamese phone?!” *rolls eyes*

Me: *pause* “I’m learning it, too? I’m still a beginner.”

Employee: “Not good enough. If you learn it, learn it well!”

(He continued to glare at me, so I quickly got it done and left. I’m not sure what his problem was; perhaps some political/ethnicity nonsense?)

(I am at the gate, ready to board the plane. I hand my ticket to the flight attendant.)

Flight Attendant: “You are already on the plane.”

Me: *standing in front of her outside the plane, at the gate* “Umm, no?”

Flight Attendant: “Someone with your name is already in your seat.”

Me: “Obviously, she is not me.”

(There were two women with the same first name, last name, and middle initial on the flight. Apparently, their computers couldn’t handle that. We even had the same seats on our tickets, but with different confirmation codes. They ended up putting me in an empty seat.)