The seven pledges stood, shoulder to shoulder and in silence, on the newspaper-covered floor of an apartment on Foster Street. Across a row of seven empty trash cans, 14 actives held gallon jugs of liquid, which looked from their colors as if they had been selected at random from the coolers of a 7-Eleven.
A brother known as the "pledge father" told the pledges that though it seemed like a lot to drink, that was just a mental barrier. Each jug they drank was one fewer their pledge brothers would have to finish, he continued. "We want to see you down this stuff, balls to the wall," he said.
The first active handed a jug across the trash cans to the first pledge. Unscrewing the top, he took a hesitant sip. It was spicy and thick, likely a mixture of ketchup and Tabasco sauce. He started sucking it down. He got through about half of it. Then he puked. By the time the first jug reached the seventh and final pledge, it was still unfinished. But he swallowed its last drops and went to work on the second jug. This continued for four or five hours until the last jug, brewed from a time-honored recipe called "Death," had been swilled. Each pledge drank about two gallons before the "takeout," as the pledge events are called, ended. This one was called DTYD: Drink 'Til You Drop.......
http://www.uwire.com/Article.aspx?id=811702
Hazed: A Greek Tragedy
After enduring countless "takeouts," the freshman pledges of Lambda Phi Epsilon called it quits
http://media.www.dailynorthwestern.c...-3360461.shtml
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