Coming to America

I was watching the latest Coming to America movie on Prime Video the other day. I found this movie hilarious and started thinking about my own Coming to America story. It was a very interesting experience. So, here it goes.

Before we talk about Coming to America, let’s set the stage first. I completed my undergraduate studies in engineering in December 1989. I had applied to several graduate schools in the US and was accepted into a few programs. After much guidance from my uncle, I decided to pursue my graduate studies at the University of Illinois at Urbana Champaign. I got my US visa in March 1990. So, there I was—with nothing to do between March and August—just hanging out having fun.

Tug of War

During those four months, my uncle (who was also my mentor—may his soul rest in peace) almost weekly would tell me not to come back to India after my studies. You see, he received his master’s from the Illinois Institute of Technology in Chicago back in the early 1970s. He came back to India and settled down. But deep down, he regretted that decision. He did not want me to do the same. On the other hand, my Dad would keep telling me weekly, “be sure to follow your uncle’s footsteps and come back to India as soon as you finish your studies.” I don’t think I was thinking about any of that—I was too excited to go.

Thanks to my uncle, I was well prepared as to what to expect—on the daily basis, he would teach me about the American way. Unlike these days, our only source of information was newspapers. American Culture had not yet touched Indian soil (that would happen 10 years later with the outsourcing boom). Heck, we did not even have iconic Coca-Cola in India! So, my uncle’s lessons were very valuable.

Anyway, fast-forward to the day of my departure. I was taking a train from Gujarat (my home state) to Mumbai (financial capital of India) and then flying to the US. My parents along with my uncle were coming to see me off to Mumbai. We sit on the train and as the train is about to depart, my elder brother comes running inside and says, “be careful about AIDS and stuff”. I am sure he was just being an elderly brother. But in my mind, I am thinking, really bro!? This is what you think of me. Thanks a lot😊.

At Mumbai, before I departed, I met up with my future roommates at my cousin’s place. You see, somehow, we found out we were all going to be at U of I starting that fall so we decided to room together. I just don’t remember how we got introduced to each other. Anyway, since I was arriving a couple of weeks before them, we decided that I would get an apartment for all of us to live together. I flew Swiss Air from Mumbai to Chicago. Until then I was all excited. Once I set on the plane, I realized the gravity of the adventure I was on. A few tears came out of my eyes.

As soon as I arrived in Chicago, my uncle and aunt (Dr. Shah and Mrs. Shah) picked me up. They lived in Sterling, Illinois. A quintessential small-town America. Dr. Shah and Mrs. Shah are family friends of my dad and my uncle for 50+ years. They are the kind of people who would help anyone regardless of who you are. Two of the nicest people I have ever met in my life bar none. On our way to Sterling, I was amazed by the roads and highways. Coming from a place where highway infrastructure was virtually nonexistent, I was impressed. We stopped by a drive-through on our way home and I could not believe my eyes!

I was staying in Sterling, IL for a week to get acquainted with American life before going to Champaign. Mrs. Shah started to show me around and teach me how things worked. It was the best orientation one could ask for. Within a few days, I thought I was getting a hang of how things worked in the US.

Let’s Drive

One day, Mrs. Shah comes and says “Raju, let’s go.” I didn’t know where we were going. We got into the car and went to a K Mart parking lot. She said, “do you know how to drive?” I told her I was used to driving in India. She got out of the car and asked me to take the driver’s seat. I was like “what? Are you sure? Because I am not sure I can drive this fancy car.” I was used to old stick cars and driving on the other side of the road. She says, “nothing is going to happen, get in.” And just like that, I started driving. How many people do you know who would do that?

The next thing I knew, I was in Champaign, IL. I stayed with a friend for a day or two. Signing an apartment lease was an experience in itself. My dad had taught me early in life never to sign anything without understanding what it is that I was signing (a practice I have maintained to date and drives hospitals nuts😊). I started reading the lease and began to ask questions. These people were not used to being questioned and more importantly, they did not have any idea what their own lease language was about. Anyway, a couple of calls to their upper management later, I ended up signing the lease and got my first apartment. My roommates showed up a week later. We were getting settled and school was starting soon. We were all excited to make new friends, learn a new culture, and study(?) new material.

My roommates and I wanted to explore everything. We were just in awe, for the most part, so every day we went and found something that we had either never seen or never experienced before.

Here to Go

One day, I walk into a McDonald’s on the campus. This nice young lady is at the register. I asked for a hamburger without ham. She was surprised. She said, “what do you want?” I told her “a hamburger without ham.” She goes, “let me understand, you want a bun, lettuce, and tomato?” I said, “yes!” The next thing she said caught me off guard. She asked me, “here to go?” I did not understand what she was asking so I asked her to repeat. She said, “here to go?” I told her I was sorry, but I don’t know what she was saying. She went, “do you want to eat here, or do you want to take it with you?” I could not believe all that was shrunk down to a simple phrase like “here to go.” I felt embarrassed. But, that’s how you learn!

One day, we found out that the local grocery store (Jewell Osco) was open 24 hours a day. We could not believe it! So, we decided to make an outing out of it. One Friday evening, at 10 pm, we took a bus to the grocery store. We spent an hour or so just amazed that it was open that late. We could not stop talking about it for days (in fact, after my roommates and I told all of our friends, it became a trend for a week or two)!

Be like Mike

I was walking through campus one day and this happened! I see a Baskin Robins–in those days, I was known to eat ice cream and potato chips for dinner! So, I walk in. To my surprise, I see an Indian man at the counter. I was so excited to see him—besides students, we would hardly see people of Indian origin in Champaign, so it was a little reminder of home for us. I asked him for his name, and he went “I am Mike.” I was like, really? So, I told him he did not look like a Mike. I asked him what his real name was. He said he was Mukesh Patel. Now if you know anything about people from India, you know that Patel is usually someone from my state of Gujarat. I got excited and started to have a conversation with him. Turns out, he was from the place that I went to undergraduate school. What a small world! I still don’t understand why people have two names–their real name and their American name. But that is a discussion for another day!

We Don’t Have Malaria in the US

About five to six weeks into the semester, I got very sick. I had a high fever, chills, and the works. Back in India, I used to get malaria once a year, so I knew I had malaria. I went to the Student Health Services and they asked me to take Tylenol. I explained to them that most likely I had malaria. To their credit, they took a blood test to confirm and put me on malaria medication. During all of this, I ended up missing a midterm. After a few days, I went to see this young lady professor who was meaner than a Pitbull. She said, “we don’t have malaria in this country so I will not give you a makeup test.” I asked her to check with the Student Health Services. She would not budge. That missed midterm gave me my only B during grad school. If you are an educator and don’t trust your student, I get it, but please be receptive to verification options. Just saying….

Anyway, we were cruising along well with our lives. I got my driver’s license somewhere in between. I had a job at the Illinois State Water Survey doing I don’t know what. But life was good. Thanksgiving was coming and Dr. Shah and Mrs. Shah invited me to Sterling for the Thanksgiving break. So, I decided to rent a car and go to Sterling for the break.

I went to pick up the rental car the night before–my friend Deep Nishar and I took the bus to the rental car place. After signing all the paperwork, we got into the car. Deep asked me, “are you sure you know how to drive here?” I told him, “of course, I took Mrs. Shah’s car for a spin in the K Mart parking lot!” For the most part, we were driving on the highway. It was after 8 pm and if you knew Champaign, IL in the early 1990s, it was a deserted place on a weekday after 8 pm. We were a few blocks away from our apartment and I took a turn into some street. About half a block into it, Deep turned to me, “Raju, I think you are driving on the wrong side.” I told him I was on the right side. Another half a block goes down in this discussion and I realize, I was indeed driving on the wrong side of the street! So glad there was no one on the road.

Well, I could go on and on but before I knew it, I was completely assimilated into the American culture. Those early days taught me a lot and bring fond memories every now and then.

Can you believe the experiences one goes through before assimilating into a culture? I bet those of you who came as immigrants in the US have your own Coming to America stories to tell. Please do share in the comments section below. Until next time…