There is such a thing as reverse culture shock.

After deplaning and securing my beautiful Hyundai from Hertz, Chace and I were ready to get some hearty American food. I was already nervous and excited as I slowly pulled the car out of the garage, having not driven since that forgetful adventure on the wrong side of the road in Langkawi while surrounded by three shrieking Chinese women back in April of last year. I nearly orgasmed when I saw the International House of Pancakes right off the on-ramp.

Chace and I rushed into the restaurant, which was packed on a Sunday morning. The waitresses looked like they could have worked as United Airlines flight attendants. People were speaking Spanish. Not a hint of cigarette smoke could be whiffed. Yup, it was good to be back in the States.

Pancakes, pancakes, pancakes.

Both of us ordered milkshakes and the all-you-can-eat pancake special. $4.99 for eggs, sausage/bacon, and all you can eat pancakes! The shake was $3, and I gulped it down.

“Expensive milkshake,” said Chace.
“Really? It’s only $3!”
“Yeah, that’s like, 24 RMB.”

I paused for a second. 24 RMB isn’t that cheap for a milkshake of IHOP’s caliber. What was I thinking?

Chace then followed: “Do people tip here?”
“Where, California?”
“Yeah. Or, I mean, I dunno…the West Coast?”

After lunch we spent about 7 minutes trying to figure out what amount of tip we should put down. Chace swore that in the three odd years we’ve been living in China, it became standard to drop 20% for both lunch and dinner. That seemed big to me, but I was too afraid of the burly American waitresses to take a chance.

Never before had I ever felt so out of place in an IHOP. It reminded me of one of Thomas Jefferson’s most famous quotes: “Being a tourist in your own country totally blows.” Or, something to that effect.