The woman at the lost baggage counter at the Portland, Oregon, airport took down my information matter-of-factly and told me my luggage would be delivered overnight. The bag never came.

I retrieved it myself the following morning on my way to another flight after I spotted it in an unattended luggage office and discovered the door unlocked. A few minutes after my find, a delivery man phoned to say he was on his way. “I already have my bag,” I told him. “Great!” he said, sounding happy to have one less task.

Contrast that to my bags’ journey after I landed in Tokyo recently for a short visit home. At a shipping counter at Narita Airport, I arranged in a matter of minutes to have my luggage delivered to my apartment, one employee processed my paperwork and payment while another expertly whipped and tied plastic covers on my suitcases. The bags arrived within the designated two-hour window the following day.

Since my recent move to the United States, I have been struck by the unfriendly and poor service there compared to Japan. A bank teller gave me the wrong forms to fill out when I wanted to cancel a check. When I asked a flight attendant if my son could have some pretzels, she barked back, “I do the drinks first.” Apologies are rare, and people often seem on edge.