Boonenkai and The Three Stages

Boonenkai season is upon us, and for many the year-end party phenomenon is a time of dread. It needn't be that way - boonenkai can actually be fun if you follow a few simple rules. If you are going to your first Boonenkai this year or have already weathered a few and are beginning to create excuses to not attend, read what I have to say, and perhaps this year you will have a great time. It may even be memorable.

First, both boonenkai and New Year's Eve parties happen near the year's end and are marked by excessive drinking, but the similarities end there. A New Year's Eve party is an event to celebrate all the promise of the coming year and happens only once, December 31st. A boonenkai on the other hand is a party to forget all the bad things that happened during the year and you may be called upon to attend more than one. If you accept every invitation you receive it can take a heavy toll on your wallet and health: choose well, but remember you are required to go to the one put on by your company.

In your home country it might be odd to go to a New Year's Eve party in a suit, but that is exactly what is expected of you at a boonenkai. Remember you are representing your company and to wear anything less than your Sunday best will reflect poorly on your co-workers. Be punctual, don't mix alcohols, and eat well before you go even though food will be served: starting out with a full stomach could make all the difference in how well you hold up. I would also caution against trying to recoup the entrance fee by lingering at the bar. The organizers of these affairs by necessity must put quantity over quality and trying to make back your money through cheap drink is like flogging yourself with alcohol. I would prefer to spend the same amount of money and limit myself to a few shots of Calvados, but that is simply not the boonenkai way.

Another difference between the two types of parties is that a boonenkai has structure with a very definite beginning, middle and end. At the front and back there will be somber speeches by VIPs. You may not understand a word of what is said but be attentive, respectful, and hopefully they will not be too long- winded. After the initial speeches there will be a kampai, where everyone raises a glass and takes the first sip. Most dictionaries translate kampai as a toast but in the case of boonenkai it would be more accurate to think of it as an opening bell, for there is no ambiguity about purpose here: it is, after all, a party to get drunk enough to forget and there is nothing shameful about it. This clarity of purpose I find refreshing, and as the crowd begins to loosen up the whole concept may become utterly delightful. You may even find yourself wanting to champion the cause, especially if you recall that in Japan you can do anything you want when drinking - fighting or driving being the two exceptions - and people are comfortable with that.

The Japanese are famously shy and in Japan alcohol is highly valued as a social lubricant. It is good manners to pour your neighbor's drink (but not your own) and as a result your glass will probably never be allowed to go empty. This is the most common source of complaint about drinking here: one feels pressured to drink, and never having an empty glass makes it impossible to keep track of how much you've had. If you feel like you have reached your limit, drain your glass and place it upside down on a table in front of you. This is the polite way to stop. If someone continues to badger you about drinking don't get angry; lay your hand on your abdomen, make a face that says you are in discomfort and want to but can't, then say geri by way of explanation. The person who is pestering you will immediately stop and perhaps offer you some sober advice on health care. This is the best technique I know to turn that sort of unwanted attention away. The only problem is knowing when you have had enough to drink. That's where a knowledge of The Three Stages can help.

The first stage is everyone's favorite because at Stage One conversation becomes an art at which you excel: you are witty, urbane, articulate, suddenly adept at Japanese, and you appreciate life for the truly miraculous thing it is. In short, you become intelligent. What to do about shrinking markets, how do we shield ourselves against governments' burgeoning debt, what is the best way to deal with North Korea and China? All of these seemingly intractable problems could be solved if people would simply stop talking and listen to you. If you are smart enough to have the answers to all these problems, or smart enough to realize you don't - pace yourself: Stage One is the reason why people like to drink and by pacing yourself you can draw it out and perhaps avoid a hangover.

If you hit Stage Two you are in dangerous territory and even if you realize you are at that point you won't want to stop drinking and go home because at Stage Two all women become beautiful. Here in Japan when Stage Two arrives it is like finding yourself in the never-never land you've been dreaming of since puberty.

It has been said that there are three perfect shapes in the world: a golf ball, the hull of a sailboat, and a woman's body. At Stage Two you understand this better than anyone, and the problem is compounded by the fact that you imagine yourself as the center of attention of all those dazzling beauties and that thought in itself is intoxicating. Your eye will begin to wander among the crowd and everywhere you look you'll find a hidden gem. The officious, back stabbing, nit-picking secretary in your office who barely conceals her disgust when you mangle her language with your pitiful attempts to speak Japanese? She is now radiant, with everything from her skeletal structure to her knowing smile angelic and sensual, the rarest of combinations - how is it you never noticed that before? And that woman with a hair lip who always covers her mouth whenever she smiles? That hair lip has miraculously transformed itself into a beauty mark - and it is becoming more and more interesting by the minute. When you hit Stage Two it is time to leave. Do so, then run - don't walk - to the nearest taxi and go straight home.

If you hit Stage Three you have drunk too much and even if you understand that, you won't care because at Stage Three you are the personification of lust and you know in your heart that all women want to have sex with you, and as soon as possible. At the party under a table, in the elevator, a taxi - anywhere: women find you irresistible and when they run from you they are simply being coy. No amount of persuasion by your colleagues or the women trying to avoid your clutches will convince you that you are suffering from an illusion. The tentacles of lust are long and tenacious and the best way to free yourself from its grasp in your inebriated state is the road home - the anticlimatic route.

If you proceed to Stage Three try to remember this simple rule, I call it Rick's Dictum: don't drink and undress with strangers. Before you begin to deconstruct what constitutes a stranger let me clarify my point: don't go to bed with someone for the first time when you are drunk; the two of you can save that for later when you want to deepen your relationship. Get the phone number of that new found lover of your dreams and in a few days, after you have had time to recover, make that call. Otherwise you may wake up in an unfamiliar room with a nameless stranger asleep on your arm, an arm you would willingly gnaw off if it meant you could slip out of the room unnoticed. Trust me on this.

By the way, if you've made it to Stage Three you could also wake up alone in a ditch. And that reminds me, just a little free advice you can take or leave: Don't go to nomihoodai parties on a bicycle. Walk home, take a taxi, train or bus, but don't go to the party on your bicycle. Some time think about that during Stage One.

So, before you take off for your boonenkai, after you've laid out your clothes and had a proper meal, I want you to get a fine tipped indelible marker and write on your drinking hand where you will see it each time you raise your glass: IB*L, which stands for Intelligence, Beauty, Lust. (The asterisk after the B means "go home now!") Below all that in parenthesis write RD! RD! Now you are properly armored for a night on the town.

It is glaringly obvious that the way of The Three Stages is flawed by the fact that it is only geared towards the male of the species and for that I apologize. The only way I can presume to know how women think is when I am at Stage One and unfortunately - not only for the women who will be going to boonenkai, but the whole world, there being so many problems in dire need of resolution - I am unable to drink and write. I tried many nights while writing this and all I could come up with is "don't wear high heels to a boonenkai". However, I do think it's fair to say that if you are at a boonenkai, or any other gathering where there is heavy drinking, and the men around you begin to appear as clever, handsome, and virile as we imagine ourselves - it's a good time to hit the door.

All that having been said, I have one last bit of heartfelt advice to offer: have a great boonenkai and a happy new year!

Rick Nelson
December 2005