Sometimes, it's a liability to know Japanese at an anime convention. People keep asking you "what'd (s)he say," you start nitpicking interpreters, and that's just the tip of the iceberg. When you're staffing a convention and are the only person in your department who speaks Japanese, it gets interesting and fun again - and when you're the only person in TWO departments who speaks Japanese, like I was at AX, it turns into a roller coaster ride.
While I was working the press and industry registration booth, all Japanese-speaking people were booted over to me with the speed of someone else's problem. One of the groups that came to me looking for their badges was a camera crew from the Japanese TV network NHK, who looked incredibly relieved when I answered their stilted English with conversational Japanese.
"Are you Japanese?" they asked, apparently mistaking my usual mumble for fluency.
"No, I'm Vietnamese." came my reply as I read their names from their passports and entered them into the database.
"You're Vietnamese? And you can read our names? Wow..." they marveled. They didn't have particularly hard-to-read names, but then again, I've spent the last three years being quizzed on Japanese names by Seiya over in Nagoya, who likes taunting me with how horribly arbitrary Japanese readings for kanji are.
"I studied in college for a while." was the half-truth that came out of my mouth, since I didn't want to tell them "Yeah, I learned your language from comic books and video games."
A few seconds later, I handed them all of their badges and started to tell them where to go for events, but as I was telling them where to pick up program guides and schedules, I brain farted on how to say "Please pick it up" in polite Japanese. As I stumbled through the various words I could think of and discarded them because most of them would have made me sound like a gang member, I looked up and realized that they were clenching their fists and pumping them in support.
"You can do it, Vietnamese guy!" they urged, hoping to cheer me into a greater competency with the Japanese language like an ouendan.
With the four Japanese guys leaning forward looking at me like I was Santa Claus and about to give them presents, I stuttered a bit and eventually spat out the right words, which met a raucous cheer. They walked off saying "Thanks, Vietnamese guy!" and I chuckled to myself, since the last few seconds had been utterly surreal.
They saw me again later that night, and it was as if I was an old friend. "Hey Vietnamese guy, how're you doing?" they asked, and they told their friends about how they'd met me at the registration desk. We talked a little bit, and after that, I didn't see them for the rest of the weekend.
Afterward, I went around telling people the story, and they too laughed at the guts poses and cries of "Ganbare, Betonamu-jin!"
Next time: Working in the cosplay office