This came about for a few reasons.  First of all, our 5C Social Committee would fund just about anything, but they started realizing that everything ended up being keg parties.  They were whining for something non-alcoholic, and our Dean of Students, Mike Cappetto, was all for it.

David Stepp had wagered at some point that he could consume something like 404 ouces of Dr Pepper by drinking 101 shots (according to the drinking game of the same name, "101") using 4-oz West Dorm shot glasses.  Clearly he was mistaken, and his sink became his best friend for a time [I suspect the feeling was not mutual].

My roommates and I called our hole in the hallway "Club 101," as we invited others to join in a monthly 101-shot beer-drinking social event that actually drew a reasonable crowd sometimes.  Some people over in Hell Suite would have their traditional JackFest, which involved drinking as much Jack Daniel's as possible.  David and Eric lived above Hell Suite (in Heaven Suite, of course) and I seem to remember Eric taking part in 101 at some point.

The 5C Social Committee bought the idea of funding a Dr Pepper drinking game, the Dean got on board, and so PepperFest was born.

It began in the West Dorm Lounge, in which so much questionable behavior had been allowed to continue every other time.  Stepp had purchased as much canned Dr Pepper as he could afford with the money he received [it was enough] and it was ready in the lounge, some of it even cold.  A suprisingly large crowd appeared to take part.

The game commenced.

Now, anyone who drinks soda knows that your local convenience store sells 64-oz jugs of the fountain drink of your choice, and that goes down okay.  64 shot glasses full of Dr Pepper was slightly more difficult, because you're drinking on the clock, and you're drinking this foul drink under duress of sorts.  Not to mention the fact that 64 was only half-way there. 

Half-way for me, anyway.  The game itself was not bound by the 101-shot upper limit so common in our version of the game.  In this case, it was a challenge to drink until nobody else could, leaving as winner the biggest loser, the one most full of Dr Pepper.

Somewhere around 85 shots I found that I could not continue.  As a veteran of Club 101 I was realizing that little glasses of beer are easy because you visit the bathroom and are not feeling so bad around 80 shots.  With Dr Pepper, you really just have a stomach ache, you feel a little shaky, and you realize that you might not be able to go to the bathroom. 

Plus there was the vomit. Not from me-- which might have been better-- but from Craig Demel, who was sitting next to me with his long hair and Dr Pepper-scented vomit flying.  I realized that there were also people outside vomitting and acting like sugar-frenzied freaks.  As nobody held Craig's hair for him, it, too, was Dr Pepper-scented, and this was all I could take.  It was time to bail.

I brushed my teeth, finally managed to hit the bathroom, and felt generally ill.  I felt utterly defeated.  I felt that this could not be the end for me in PepperFest, so I returned and had to drink 5 shots to catch up.  To this day I am fairly certain that it was those 5 shots that should have been my last-- indeed the remaining 16 proved to be.

When all was said and done, the last man standing was Kirby Lawton, who had been the star of the show in various other examples of stupidity, so this was par for the course.  If memory serves, he was awarded a pewter mug, engraved with his name and the size of his accomplishment.

Long after the party was over, some random Pomona dorks came wandering through our lounge searching for lingering parties.  They were stepping on some of what seemed like thousands of empty Dr Pepper cans, and they asked what had gone on there.  I began to describe it, but the look of horror that flashed across their faces prompted me to stop.  I turned my back and heard them questioning our sanity as I walked away.