It's hard to say whether or not I clearly remember my first hanami party in Japan (not surprising the amount of alcohol I have consumed at these damned things over the years). The first one I clearly recall, I suppose, was in Aichi, in the drab Nagoyan suburb of Nishio (strangely enough, now my son's birthplace). I was living in the slightly larger, much more scenic riverside town of Okazaki, so it seemed a bit counterintuitive to go to Nishio to view the meager canalside blossoms, but the local international association had asked me, and I was never one to turn down free booze. This brings me to J.P.'s first rule of hanami:

#1: Choose the location yourself.

It's very tempting to let someone else do your location scouting for you, but unless your friends are exceedingly well-connected (or aesthetically informed), chances are they'll pick some choice spot adjacent to a highway overpass. In my case, our “tarp layer” had chosen a spot that was, at first glance, prime (under a decent-sized sakura, beside not-entirely-fetid flowing water), but upon sitting, I realized that the sharp gravel and numerous tree roots were going to make sitting for hours an uncomfortable affair. The middle-aged woman in charge apologized somewhat sheepishly, saying that she hadn't been able to get out early enough to get a better spot.

#2: Get out early enough to get a better spot.

Alright, I know this isn't Springsteen tickets, and I don't expect you to camp out all night just to be able to nab that spot-to-end-all-spots, though they do just that in my neighborhood here in Arashiyama. But if you're planning to have a party in the afternoon, start seriously considering getting up with the dawn to “challenge” that primo location. Bring a book, bring a DS – hell bring some chu-hais and start the festivities a little early. It'll be better than waking up with bruised thighs AND a hangover the next day (though the hangover will be unavoidable).

Okay, so there I am crouching uncomfortably by a cement canal in Nishio, trying to get a few Asahis in edgewise through the eikaiwa vampires that invited me. “Yes, I'm from U.S.” “Yes, I have a girlfriend.” “Yes, she's Japanese.” “No, I think we have four seasons in the U.S. as well.” My first (and only) Super Dry getting warmer and warmer in my hand…

#3: Hanami is better with friends.

Chances are the first folks to invite you to hanami will be your coworkers, students or people with whom you'd probably not normally go out with for a few drinks at Tin's Hall. If there's really nobody you think you'd like to spend three hours talking to under a tree under normal circumstances, yet you feel reluctant to refuse, ask if you can bring a friend along. Then at least you'll have someone to bitch and moan with when the inevitable rain begins. Which of course it did in Nishio.

#4: Discretion is the better part of valor when it comes to the weather.

There's about a 50% chance that the weather is not going to cooperate with your drunken little picnic plans. And there is nothing more depressing than watching a hanami slowly fall apart when the sprinkles begin, the parka hoods coming up, the squinting up at the sky, followed by frantic “doshio”s, and finally the slow, ridiculous drenching everyone endures during the half-hour long emergency clean up. If the ridiculously hot weather girl says “chance of rain”, try another day. If that's not possible, make sure to have a back-up plan. If you're planning your hanami in the early evening, try reserving a large table at a local cheap izakaya. You can always cancel if it becomes apparent that clear skies will prevail, and should the weather turn ugly, you will be congratulated on your sagacity.

Alright, we've learned enough from a negative example. Now let's turn to an absolutely delightful shindig I attended with my eikaiwa coworkers in Nagoya a few years back. I think all of us single guys had brought a six-pack of something as an offering to the group, but none of us had seriously considered how to keep our drinks cold. Luckily, smarter folks than I were in charge.

#5: Bring two or three empty ice chests (with ice).

Nothing can put an early end to a hanami party faster than a lack of cold beverages.

#6: Bring funny hats.

Okay, maybe that's an oversimplification. I'm talking party favors here. Bring something to do that will be a) fun to do, b) not seriously competitive, c) will not be too cognitively draining for drunken idiots (i.e. you) and d) will look good in the inevitable pics everyone will be clicking on the keitais. In Nagoya, the party next to us had reverted to using chopsticks to wind up their own underwear for amusement (I kid you not); you do NOT want your party to lapse into that level of boredom. Which brings us to our last rule:

#7: Don't be a total dick.

Sure hanami parties can be a great time to unwind in public, and people are generally very forgiving of loud, obnoxious behavior. Still, this ain't cart blanche for public urination, Frisbees and soccer balls kicked into neighboring parties, littering, fighting, tree molestation, impromptu bonfires and general asshaberdashery. Don't forget to bring a bunch of garbage bags, at the very least.

And that's all the advice I'm willing to give out this year. By the time this goes to press, chances are hanami season will already be finishing up. But so what if the cherry blossoms have all dropped by the time you actually get out? Hanami is less about the flowers and more about the picnic atmosphere (and drinking), and when it comes down to it, that's something anybody can do in any park on any warm day. See you under the trees!

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