When Japan Airlines finally tumbled into bankruptcy late on Tuesday afternoon Tokyo time, I ran up to my attic to unearth a tale of life at Asia's largest carrier from nearly 30 years ago.

According to an article in a then-contemporary Japanese business magazine, a passenger asked a Japan Airlines flight attendant for an oshibori, the hand towel that JAL then, and now, distributes before meals. The stewardess refused, the passenger persisted, and the dispute eventually escalated to the chief purser, the master of all he surveys in flight. The purser reluctantly agreed, but sternly warned the passenger not to expect a towel at mealtime too.

The magazine's conclusion: Japan's vaunted reputation for polite and gracious service could only be maintained if everyone knew their role in the process. JAL's in-flight staff was certainly wrong not to provide a towel, the magazine decided. But the customer was also at fault. She should have known that oshibori was not available at an unscheduled time and should never have embarrassed the cabin crew by asking for one at an unexpected moment.

If nothing else, JAL's latest bankruptcy is the very model of a modern Japanese business failure and a reaffirmation of Japan's unfailing ability to make it all about manners. The airline will be bailed out to the tune of $11 billion—the fifth time in a decade the carrier has been rescued by government and/or private players—and JAL apologized. Not once. But twice.

We "sincerely apologize to all of our shareholders, financial creditors, customers, and other parties concerned for the great inconvenience and concern this situation might cause," an English-language JAL statement ritualistically noted. After it outlined the draconian measures the airline and its many subsidiaries would take to return to health, the statement retreated to the requisite Kabuki: "Lastly, we again apologize to all of our shareholders and other parties for the great inconvenience and for causing concern."

You may chuckle at the niceties of JAL's public stance, but you may wish for a little corporate humility in the next few days as our own "legacy" carriers—Delta, American, United, Continental, and US Airways—report their fourth-quarter and full-year 2009 results. They will again lose billions of dollars, and, rather than apologize, they will blame passengers for not paying enough high fares, not flying frequently enough, and having the audacity to continue switching their business to alternate carriers such as Southwest and JetBlue.

Be it humble or hostile, the dire straits that JAL and the old-school American carriers find themselves paddling through won't be calmed anytime soon. The model they built is probably forever broken, and, ironically, JAL's future and the fate of several U.S. airlines are inextricably bound.

In JAL's case, the problems date back 25 years, to a 1985 crash that claimed more than 500 lives and remains the world's worst single-aircraft disaster. Even though JAL, founded in 1953, had literally been the wings of Japan's postwar revival, the crash shook the country’s faith in its "flag carrier." It's been downhill ever since as JAL was buffeted by Japan's 20-year economic malaise; falling outbound Japanese tourism and rising fuel costs; a misbegotten merger with a domestic competitor in 2002; and an even more unfortunate expansion strategy that left it bloated with too many unrelated businesses, too many employees, and $25 billion in debt.

At the height of its market dominance after the 2002 merger with Japan Air System, JAL commanded a 66 percent share for international service and 46 percent share of the domestic Japanese market. But profits have been virtually nonexistent since the merger and JAL was surpassed by All Nippon Airways, Japan's largest domestic carrier and a respected player in the international sphere.