Going Rogue: An American Life (95 page)

There wasn’t much promotion of that

I didn’t want

that for my own sake, Lord knows, but it needed to be shared. Republicans are often stereoryped as a pack of politicians without compassion. Here was a chance to show that caring hearts did beat at the center of the common sense conservative movement. And in effective ways that don’t only calion government to deliver caring solutions, because government
can’t
deliver caring solutions. We needed to explain that GOP leadership, caring people would not be shut out by policies that discourage nonprofits, churches, and generous individuals, but instead would be empowered to continue their good work.

I gave two more policy speeches, one on energy and one on women’s issues, wirh a similar lack of promotion. That was a surprising strategy. I wished we could have done more. We asked whether we could expand the message, but by then it seemed, at

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PALIN

least according to reports like the

York Times Magazine
piece

by Robert Draper, that headquarters might already have given up. The article telegraphed a defeatisr menrality among some of the campaign operatives. That surprised the rest of us, because we still had more rhan two weeks until election day-an eternity in politics.

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As October 31 neared, the press pool on the plane kept asking Piper, “What are you going to be for Halloween?” Piper played it kind of coy and wouldn’t let anyone in on her secret: she was going to dress up as a snow princess. Her plan was that she’d get to be a princess all day long at whatever campaign stops were scheduled. Still, we all felt bad that the kids were going to miss Halloween. At our house we milk every holiday and birthday for all it’s worth. Todd always says that only the Heath family can stretch a single birthday over three days’ time.

When you’re a kid, October 31 is all about one thing: candy. So, instead of passing out her stickers on the rope line, Piper would pass out candy. The

Team called headquarters to secure permission for the kids to trick-or-treat, but they wanred it to be politically useful by picking a neighborhood of swing voters. I hoped it wouldn’t turn into merely a photo op because the kids had been so patienr through all this, managing school schedules during the week in Alaska, then meeting up with us when rhey could for once-in-a-lifetime life lessons all acroSS the counrry. Jason said it would get pretty clustered up if it stayed in the hands of someone in headquarters, so he kicked it over to the Secret Service. The staff threw a Halloween parry for the kids at the hotel. Nothing fancy, but so thoughtful! Chris brought in Chinese food and the advance team bought six pumpkins and carving equip
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Going Rogue

ment so the gitls could make jack-o’-lanterns. Then on Halloween night, we all dressed up-Piper as the snow princess, Trig as a cute little elephant, me as Tina Fey again.

We were in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, and the whole costumed crew jumped on the bus-and drove over to an all-American neighborhood the Secret Service picked out. Piper was so excited. Here she’d thought she was going to miss out on Halloween and all these people had pitched in to make the night special after all. It really was nice.

For the first couple of houses, things went along fine. I carried our little elephant and held Piper’s hand. It was dark by then. We rang doorbells and the kids yelled, “Trick or treat!” Nice, normal people greeted us, told the incognito kids “how cute,” and doled out candy, just like at home. But it didn’t take long for the people in the neighborhood to wonder why there were photographers walking backward and flashes popping in front of a snow princess, an elephant, and a comedienne, who were also being followed by a phalanx of large, serious-looking men in suits with wires sticking out of their ears. Before we knew it, a crowd had clustered around, taking pictures and shouting out questions. I felt guilty as heck. This was supposed to be Piper’s night, but she was shuffled off to the side to get her out of the path of the surging crowd that moved forward when I did, stopped when I did, and would’ve probably moved backward if! had, too. In the end, we got to go to only a few houses, and when the Secret Service hustled us back onto the bus, Tony, the head of the detail, had to confiscate Piper’s candy.

“May I have your candy?” he said to Piper. “I need to check it, honey, make sure it’s safe.” To Piper, those were fighting words. Man, I felt sorry for Tony, because he was so caring and kind, but he was also a professional, which meant he was forced to be the bad guy. He had to sit there and screen the candy piece by piece, . 325 ..

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discarding anyrhing unwrapped, whirtling down the tiny amount Piper had collected while she stared … and glared. A couple of well-meaning reporters on the bus asked her, “So, how’d you do?”

Always candid and keeping it real, Piper said, “It was the worst Halloween ever!” She then returned to her duty, watching poor Tony, bald head down, spectacles on, and broad shoulders curved, sadly doing his job, holding each trear up to the lighr like a potentially poisonous scientific specimen. Jason and Tracey had earlier telephoned the press pool, who were waiting for us on the campaign plane.

“Things didn’t go too well here,” Jason told one of the reporters. “Could you guys make sure there’s some candy for the kids on the plane?

“Are you kidding?” the reporrer said. “We’ve been planning this for weeks!”

When we got back to the plane, the press pool had mounds of candy and treat bags and fun stuff for the girls, so much that when they finished “trick-or-treating” down the aisle, their baskets were overflowing. Piper hit the toof with happiness! When we took off, she sat in the back giggling with her reporter buddies and eating as much candy as she wanted. I think she stayed up all night. The next day, November I, the bus was rolling through Florida when Bexie handed me a cell phone. We were heading from a rally in New Port Richey to another in Polk City, near Lakeland. Florida Governor Charlie Crist was aboard, sitting up front. Todd and I were in the back.

“It’s Nicolas Sarkozy,” Bexie said, holding out the phone.
Oh, that’s right,
I thought.
It’s on the schedule.
When headquarters let the B Team know the president of France would be call
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Going Rogue

ing, I’d immediately regretted not having paid more attention in Mrs. Lawton’s high school Ftench class.

By that time I’d received calls from presidents of other countries and our own, and had met elder statesmen and other dignitaries, so it didn’t surprise us too much that we’d be speaking with the French leader.

“This is Nicolas Sarkozy speaking,” said a deeply accented voice. “How are you?”

“Oh, it’s so good to hear from you,” 1 said. “Thank you for calling us.”

“Oh, it’s a pleasure.” Sarkozy pronounced it
ple-zhur.
We exchanged some pleasantries and discussed our campaign’s performance in the polls.

Then Sarkozy said, “Well, 1 know very well that the campaign can be exhausting. How do you feel right

my dear?”

My dear?
That, and a few other things, were a little off. 1 wondered what time it was in France-maybe he was sipping a bit before he placed the call?

“I feel so good, I feel like we’re in a mararhon and at the very end of the marathon you get your second wind and you plow through the finish.”

“You see, I got elected in France because I’m teal, and you seem to be someone who’s real as well,” Sarkozy said.
Weird thing/or a president to say, What to say back?
“Yes, Nicolas,
we so appreciate this opportunity,”

I laughed, keeping it light.

Then Sarkozy statted talking about hunting, and suggested we get together and hunt from helicoptets, which Alaska hunters don’t do (despite citculated Photoshopped images of me drawing a bead on a wolf from the air). He finished his comment with a long French phrase.

got to be drunk,
I thought.

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