Only Three Hours in America!? — The Dream of Pilot Training Abroad and the Harrowing Story of My First Trip to the U.S.

When you hear the words “going to America,” your heart can’t help but race.
The blue skies of the U.S., the land of freedom, and a true aviation powerhouse!

…And yet, my very first trip to America ended after a grand total of just three hours in the country.

I hope you’ll enjoy this slightly dramatic (or maybe just pathetic?) story and have a good laugh at my expense.

A childhood dream: a fateful encounter with the F-4 Phantom

It was back in the Showa era.
One summer when I was in fifth grade, at an air show held under the blazing sun on an airport tarmac.

The moment that jet took off, I knew.

“I’m going to become a pilot.”

It was a decision carved deep into my heart.

Aiming for a fighter jet: applying to become an Air Cadet

After graduating from high school, driven purely by the desire to fly fighter jets, I applied for the Japan Air Self-Defense Force’s “Air Cadet” program.

I passed the first and second rounds, and miraculously even cleared the third-stage practical flight test.

At that point I was sure—my dream path was finally wide open.
Full of excitement, I left Nagoya and headed to Hofu-Kita Air Base in Yamaguchi Prefecture for the enrollment ceremony.

And then…

Tragedy struck during the final medical check before enlistment.

On the eye test, my vision came out as 0.9.

At the time, the standard required unaided vision of at least 1.0 in each eye. I was just 0.1 short—and that alone disqualified me. My acceptance was revoked, and I was sent straight back home.

I still remember going back in tears.

Even so, I couldn’t let go of my dream, and I decided on America.

My heart was on the verge of breaking, but the desire to fly simply wouldn’t disappear.

Around that time, I happened to come across a special feature in a Japanese aviation magazine called Tsubasa (“Wings”), which covered study-abroad programs in the United States where you could obtain a pilot’s license.

In that single line, I saw the path my life was meant to take.

But there was one big problem: money.

At the time, I was working part-time at a company called Japan Recruit Center (the former name of what is now Recruit), and to save up for studying abroad, I endured over 100 hours of overtime.

It was literally sweat-and-tears money. Clutching those hard-earned savings, I got ready to head for America.

I quit “R Company” (Japan Recruit Center), and finally, the day of departure arrived.

Goodbye Japan, hello America… or so I thought

On the Shinkansen platform, my coworkers from the part-time job waved and shouted, “Take care!” as I left, my heart pounding with nerves and excitement.

From Narita International Airport, I was supposed to board a Thai Airways flight to Seattle.

I walked to the gate and checked the board…

And there it was, in big bold letters:

CANCELLED.

It turned out the flight had been cancelled due to an engine problem.

“Wait… my dream is going to end here at the airport?”

The airline arranged an overnight stay at the Narita View Hotel.

And in the hotel elevator, I suddenly found myself alone—just me and a blonde beauty.

“Is this… fate?”

…That little fantasy was short-lived.
Nothing happened, the night simply passed, and at 4:30 a.m. I was jolted awake by the airline’s early-morning wake-up call.

At last, it was time to depart for the America I’d dreamed of!

Arrival in Seattle — and the beginning of hell

After more than 20 hours of travel, I finally arrived in Seattle, USA.

“Wow… so this is America…”

Staggering with jet lag, I headed toward immigration.

In my head, I desperately rehearsed my lines:

“Purpose of visit… sightseeing!
Length of stay… one month!
Where I’ll be staying… at a friend’s place in San Francisco!!”

In reality, of course, my goal was to get a pilot’s license.

Strictly speaking, I should have entered on an F-1 student visa, but following the advice of the travel agency, I was trying to enter on a B-2 tourist visa instead.

The result was as obvious as a flare in the dark.

The immigration officer looked at me and said:

“…You’re not a tourist.”

Apparently my appearance screamed “student,” and he clearly found me suspicious.

“Open your bag,” he said.

I unzipped my Boston bag, and inside was…

Out came my letter of admission and a stack of textbooks.

Game over.

And so, the interrogation began.

“Why are you here?
Where are you staying?
What’s your purpose?
Are you really a tourist?”

Me: “S-sightseeing…”

Officer:

“Then let me call a judge. Once a ruling is made, you’ll be deported and banned from entering the U.S. for ten years.
But if you voluntarily go back now, there’ll be no record.
What do you want to do?”

Me: “I’ll go back!!”

Instant answer. 😂

A humiliating U-turn: Total U.S. stay, three hours

And that’s how I ended up flying right back to Japan on the same plane I’d arrived on.
You can’t make this stuff up.

Time spent in America: a grand total of three hours.

Roughly 40 hours of travel, round trip, for three hours on U.S. soil.

At that point, all I could do was laugh.

By the way, the thing that left the strongest impression on me from that trip was…

“The underground train that runs between terminals at Seattle Airport.”

That train was insanely cool.

Lesson learned: Always apply for the right visa

The lesson I took away from all this is very simple:

“Enter the country with the proper visa.”

Chasing your dreams and taking off toward them is important—but before that, you need solid, grounded preparation.

Now I can laugh about it, but at the time I was really crushed.

Still, I believe that it was precisely because of this failure that my later study abroad, flight training, and who I am today became possible.

Round 2: This time, I really go to America

After returning to Japan, I “lost” the passport with the cancelled B-2 visa, and filed an official lost-property report with the police.

I had my passport reissued and headed to the U.S. consulate in Kobe.

There, I applied once again for a B-2 visa—and this time, it was approved without issue.

I also changed airlines for the second attempt.
No more Thai Airways (which apparently had a lot of immigration issues back then); I chose safe and reliable Japan Airlines to Los Angeles.

At immigration, it was another nerve-wracking interview.

But this time—I passed.

To be continued.