Alright, let’s talk about the most underrated riot in American history. Christmas Eve, 1826. West Point Military Academy. A bunch of future military leaders—men who would one day go on to plan battles and lead armies—got absolutely wrecked on spiked eggnog and proceeded to tear the place apart. Furniture destroyed, officers threatened, swords drawn… all because they wanted a little whiskey in their Christmas cheer.
It’s called The Eggnog Riot, and I swear to you, it’s exactly as ridiculous as it sounds.
Let’s back up for a second and set the scene. West Point in 1826 wasn’t exactly fun. It was strict, it was boring, and it was run by Colonel Sylvanus Thayer—a guy so disciplined and uptight he probably ironed his socks. Thayer was the “Father of West Point,” and he took his job very seriously. If there was a rule to be made, he made it. No drinking. No nonsense. Imagine you’re 20 years old, stuck in a freezing barracks, surrounded by dudes who are just as miserable as you are, and the one thing you definitely can’t do? Have a drink.
Now, let’s be honest—telling a bunch of young men in their early 20s that they can’t drink is like telling toddlers they can’t touch the shiny red button. They’re gonna touch the button. They can’t help themselves. That’s human nature, baby!
So, a few cadets—future military greats, mind you—hatched a plan. They said, “Screw it, we’re making eggnog. REAL eggnog. None of this watered-down ‘milk and nutmeg’ nonsense. We’re talkin’ full-strength, bootlegged, knock-your-socks-off holiday cheer.” To pull this off, they snuck out to local taverns and smuggled back several gallons of whiskey—enough to get the entire student body tipsy and then some. Among the masterminds? A young Jefferson Davis—yes, the guy who would later go on to be president of the Confederacy. Little Jeff Davis, out here hooch-smuggling like it’s a Tarantino movie.
By Christmas Eve, the operation was in full swing. The cadets poured the whiskey into bowls of eggnog like bartenders at an open bar at a wedding. Toasts were made, cheers were shouted, and for a few hours, all was merry and bright. But then—oh buddy—things got out of control.
Now, I don’t know if you’ve ever seen a bunch of dudes get obliterated on a holiday beverage, but it’s like watching reindeer stampede through a department store. The cadets went full animal. They started smashing furniture, throwing boots through windows, and—this is my favorite part—one cadet grabbed his sword and started hacking apart the bannisters. Who brings a sword to a Christmas party? These guys, apparently.
It didn’t take long for the officers to notice. Colonel Thayer was woken up in the middle of the night by the sound of glass breaking and chaos echoing through the halls. He sends some officers to break it up, but these guys are dealing with a crowd of 70 drunk, angry cadets who have just discovered the sweet freedom of rebellion. It was like trying to stop a prison riot armed with a clipboard and good intentions.
One cadet allegedly pointed a gun at an officer and said, “Back off!” which—let’s be real—is not how you ask for another round of drinks.
By the time the sun came up on Christmas morning, the North Barracks looked like someone had thrown a fraternity party and a demolition derby at the same time. Windows smashed. Furniture destroyed. Walls dented. I’m pretty sure even the cockroaches were like, “Damn, this place is trashed.”
Now comes the fallout. Thayer was furious. He launched an investigation, and when the dust settled, 70 cadets—a full third of the student body—were implicated in what became known as the Eggnog Riot. Nineteen cadets were court-martialed and expelled. And here’s the kicker: Jefferson Davis got away with it. He somehow managed to sneak out of the chaos and avoid getting caught. It’s like the guy had a sixth sense for dodging consequences—something that probably came in handy later in life.
But here’s the thing about this story: it’s hilarious, yes, but it’s also kind of relatable. These were young men who lived under the most suffocating, rule-heavy system you can imagine. Every hour of their lives was scheduled. Every move they made was scrutinized. They were supposed to be future generals, masters of discipline, but on Christmas Eve? They just wanted to cut loose.
And there’s something so human about that. These were the guys who would go on to shape America’s future, but at the end of the day, they were just kids who needed a break. They wanted to blow off steam, and they did it the way humans have been doing it for centuries: by mixing booze into something that really didn’t need booze.
Of course, the moral of the story is this: eggnog is not to be trusted. You think it’s sweet and innocent, but give it some whiskey, and suddenly it’s leading 70 future military officers into battle against their own furniture.
So the next time you’re sipping eggnog on Christmas Eve, think of those West Point cadets. Picture them, swords drawn, singing carols, and breaking chairs like it’s WrestleMania. And remember: it’s not the eggnog that’s the problem. It’s what happens when you tell someone they can’t have any.
Merry Christmas, Colonel Thayer. And to all a good night.
