Postcards: The Day My Life Got "Real"

Welcome to December 11. Don't drink or else you'll have a baby. Also, let's talk about the Fed meeting over the next two days, and why it's time to hedge...

Dear Fellow Expat:

As my wife entered her ninth month of labor in 2017, we made a deal.

I would not drink any alcohol during the final three weeks before her due date.

It was a stressful time for everyone.

It was also winter in Chicago – a time of year dedicated to drinking drinks inside and eating pork.

But I put on that brave face and pushed through those 21 days like a breeze.

She was due December 7.

My daughter didn’t arrive on the due date. Or the day after.

Or the day after that.

Three weeks had turned into four weeks.

My wife was ready to explode, and I took the dog out every night.

On December 11 at midnight, the start of the day, I walked the dog up and down the block.

Suddenly, I heard my name. It was my lacrosse coach from college, and I hadn’t seen him in a very long time. He invited me inside the bar across the street to talk.

And in the next 20 minutes, I had two Corona Lights and three shots of Malort.

Hurrah… Huzzah… FRIENDSHIP!

I then returned home to go to bed.

One hour later, my wi…