I'm about to go to lunch, when my friend hits me up with a quick important question on gchat. I answer him, typing with one hand and my bag over my shoulder, the international symbol for About To Leave.

Two teachers approach my desk, and I can feel their awkward glances to each other in my peripheral vision. They either don't want to interrupt my hard work, or they feel bad for noticing that I am gchatting instead of doing hard work. I'd feel guilty if there were any work to do, or if I hadn't been sitting at my desk for the two weeks of spring break. With nothing to do.

The man is really cool. He has spiky hair, and he always tries to talk to me, even though he spends more time typing things into his translator than actually getting his point across. But darn it, he keeps trying to include me as part of the office, and I really enjoy his company. The woman has a habit of over apologizing for everything, as is common here. If she places a stack of papers near my desk, and a week later, a gust of wind blows one to my area, she gasps, bows deeply, and apologizes for the rudeness of her sub-par paper-laying abilities. This is madness, you say? This is JAPAN, I respond, and kick you into a pit.

Spiky sensei finally breaks the silence. "Today, do you have a lunch?" I cheerfully answer that I'm grabbing lunch at a nearby convenience store, a little worried that today is a special teacher's bento day. On certain days, a prepaid lunch is provided for me, and I have to scoot around mysterious foodstuffs for 10 minutes until I've scattered it in a way that it appears I have eaten something. He nods, satisfied. Maybe he was just curious.

The woman, Sumima sensei (a hilarious pun I just made up (trust me) from the word "sumimasen," one of the 30 ways to apologize in Japanese), wrings her hands before asking me a favor. Could I help her out by grading a few student compositions? I over enthusiastically comply, as if to say, "Why, I'm only sitting here gchatting because I'm depressed that I'm not an integral part of society. I would LOVE to have some actual work to do, and more if you have it!" And I'm actually kind of telling the truth.

She breathes a sigh of relief, and they excuse themselves. Having answered my friend's question online, I stand up and head out the door. At the front entrance of school, Spiky sensei meets up with me, also apparently leaving for lunch. "Convenience store lunch, ne? Sumima sensei and I will be going to a restaurant. There are noodles, hamburgers, and salads. Very delicious."

For an instant, I'm paralyzed with fear. When he had asked me my lunch plans before, had it been...an invitation? It kind of made sense. I leave for lunch at the same time every day, and I've never been questioned about it. Had I rudely not read between the lines? Should I have downplayed my lunch, so he understood that I would of course prefer noodles, hamburgers, and salad over half an egg sandwich from 7-11? Should I have made it clear that, while lunch *is* the only thing all day I actually look forward to, my plans were not set in stone?

I waver for a minute, second-guessing myself. No. Maybe he wasn't inviting me. And if I press the issue now, it will LOOK like I'm asking to be invited along, which I'm NOT. I mean, I'd like it, of course. I'm torn between turning down an invitation and barging in on someone else's lunch plans. Which is happening here, and which is less rude?

I predictably choose the most awkward route possible by bowing goodbye, taking a few steps in the opposite direction, and spin around on my heel, exclaiming, "Um, noodles and hamburgers, huh? So it's a pretty good restaurant?" Something lights up in his eyes, and he points to me. "You? You would like to come?" At this moment, Sumima sensei walks out to join him. He turns to her. "Lauren sensei [something in rapidfire Japanese]." The woman sucks air through her teeth, the international symbol for Making a Tough Decision. I get it. They weren't inviting me. Right? I backpedal. "Oh, but if it's too much trouble." Sumima sensei pipes up. "We do not...have much time to eat."

I'm still unsure what this means. Do I take an unusually long time to eat? I'd be holding them back? They're already going to the restaurant. It's not like they'd planned on chugging a calorie drink for lunch, and I waltzed in suggesting a five-course meal. But I take the hint. "Ah, I will go to the convenience store then!" I cheerfully wave goodbye.

I walk away with a peculiar feeling. Was I supposed to feel awkward, or were they? Had I rudely imposed, or had they just rudely announced their lunch plans and denied an invite? *Do* I take a really long time to eat? Did they think I was just going to be chatty and ruin their noodles, putting them behind on their workdays? Or were they also beating themselves up for not being able to oblige an invitation? Do they feel bad for not having enough time to eat with a friendly (and witty and attractive and nice-smelling) co-worker?

I guess that's why everyone in Japan just apologizes to each other all the time. Maybe no one knows who's supposed to feel more sorry?