Twenty-something people stand around on the Outing Club side lawn. “Keep chugging people,” an Outing Club member yells. “There are only 30 minutes left!” The scene is grim, and the ground is covered by vomit. Each person wields what’s left of their gallon of milk, all different colors, all coming back up. As the hour goes on, the students become sicker and sicker.  

The challenge is going as it usually does until a Canton police officer pulls up. “The next person to throw up gets arrested,” he shouts at the milk-sick students. He would later describe the event in his report as “a biohazard, with vomit running down the streets of Canton.” As a result, one participant ended up being charged with two misdemeanors, and the school administration kindly asked the club to throw up somewhere else in future years.  

The Gallon Challenge, Milk Chugging, or, if you go to SLU, Milk Blister comes around every year near the end of the spring semester. The challenge is simple, however almost impossible: one gallon of milk, one hour, no throwing up. Some start fast, sending the bottom of the gallon straight to the sky. Others have another method, sipping slowly, planning to use the whole hour. Only professional eaters and the strongest-willed can win the challenge. Almost every year, all 20-something people who begin the challenge eventually throw up; it’s not a matter of if, it is when. A human stomach can only hold about a half-gallon of anything in their stomach. “When you push past that boundary, the stretch receptors in your stomach are triggered, which induces emergency-overload vomiting,” according to How Stuff Works.   

So, if emergency overload vomiting is what most people are headed for, why does this event still happen every year? Many participants come to keep the tradition alive. Milk Blister has been going on since 1998, with photographic evidence of house members participating in the challenge 25 years ago. Another reason to come back each year is for the challenge.   

“It’s one of those things where I like to see how capable my body is,” stated Matt White ’24, a participant in last year’s Milk Blister. “It’s also a great opportunity to get together with a bunch of people.” The tradition is not just about the pain but rather the camaraderie it creates.  

It has been 8 years since the run-in with Canton police, and ever since, the event has been held somewhere else on campus. Now it takes place somewhere hidden, tucked away at a spot where Canton police will be oblivious to the creamy shenanigans of the Outing Club.

A ceremonial announcement booms over a megaphone. “Welcome to Milk Blister, everybody,” Elsa Eckhardt ’23 shouted to the growing crowd gathering around the Whit pit. The participants stood on the stone slabs, looking across at each other and swaying with anxiety as it closes in on start time. The ceremonial gong is rung, and the participants begin their chug. The crowd cheered as the milk begins to go down. However, that’s not what they are there for. The audience erupted when, only 3 minutes in, a participant plants his hands on his knees and ejects the milk from his stomach. Everyone encouraged each other to keep going as they avert their eyes from the first fallen milk drinker. A few minutes later, more and more people are dropping. The cheers and retches began to harmonize into a glorious song depicting college students’ ability to keep going against all odds as long as their friends are watching.  

Noah Height ’24 started off weary of what lay ahead. “The first few sips were hardest for me, but once I got the grove, I was like fuck it!” He said. Noah was able to get the gallon down but not able to keep it down.  

It was about 35 minutes into Milk Blister when Peter Gressler ’25 had to throw up. “It wasn’t a nauseating feeling. It was more like I got punched in the stomach, and it all came out,” he described. “Pace yourself, or you’ll be throwing up the whole time.”  

On the day of Milk Blister, Matt White ate a light meal, stayed hydrated, and maked sure to do breathing exercises during the event to fight nausea. But most importantly, he was never ashamed. Whether that is because of excessive milk consumption, vomiting, or his absolute love of the event, no one is sure.  

“Gnartown,” “character building,” “rejuvenating,” and “heinous” are just a few of the words participants use to describe Milk Blister. There seems to be a consensus, however, that while this event is disgusting, it does something to everyone who participates. Never has a Milk Blister participant left the playing field regretting their decision to chug. They may have weak stomachs and stay away from milk for a while, but what they have gained is far greater. They have overcome a challenge that only the bravest SLU students take on… they participated in Milk Blister.