Tales from beyond the Frat: Confessions in the wake of partaking in the Jaeger challenge

Dylan Snyder

Now while the story I am about to tell is mostly true, details have been changed to protect the innocent as they were involved in the story. But the fear, passion, elation and misery that is discussed is all too real. I don’t recommend doing this to anyone, unless they want to feel completely at a loss for words.

For those who don’t act like total morons on a regular basis, the Jaeger Challenge involves splitting a fifth of Jaeger with another human and drinking it as quickly has possible. I decided the best way to do this would be a “reverse Jaeger bomb” complete with shot of Redbull dropped into my 10 shots. Now I wasn’t a total fool. I didn’t drink a drop heading into my highlight for election into the “What was he thinking?” Hall of Fame. This was by far my saving grace, as when I saw my “challengers,” the other pair of dudes who would be racing us, they promptly barfed everywhere. Now I knew I had an iron stomach, trained on McDonald’s and Taco Bell, which prepared me for this very moment. After finishing my drink in 6.7 seconds, it was one of the most bizarre evenings of my entire life.

The first feeling upon completion was sheer terror. As the licorice flavored poison settled into my body my head went into overdrive. Am I going to barf? Where should I barf if I need to barf? Wait, I’m not going to barf. That repeated about 100 times in about 15 minutes would be accurate description of the first wave of post challenge excitement.

The next several hours –– four, to be exact –– were pretty much an exercise on how quickly my stomach could process what I just decided would be a good idea to consume. Now reminding you I was completely sober heading into this, that after the first half an hour I started to get that nice buzz warm feeling you get after your first drink or two. Over the next hour or so, I got to a nice “very drunk” phase in my night. The only alarming part was that I had since stopped drinking and was continuing to feel drunker every passing minute. This is alarming for two reasons. Aside from the whole “health” myth, first I didn’t know when it would stop, and second I could only fear what was coming for me the next morning.

I returned home to my house mates blaring loud music and feeling great, so naturally I joined them in the festivities until the alcohol successfully sedated me. Then I returned to my bed and waited for what I had coming. The next morning could only be described as predictable. My hangover was mild at worst, and I felt ready to go. This all changed when I returned to the scene of previous nights crime and smelled the black licorice death. The overwhelming odor caused me to immediately question my existence as a man and have not been able to come within 15 feet of a bottle of sweet German liquor ever since.