Going Rogue: An American Life (96 page)

SARAH PALIN

“Yes, you know we have a lot in common because ftOm my house I can see Belgium. That’s kind of less interesting than you.” It was getting weirder. The man on the phone began singing some freaky song, saying his. wife was jealous of our phone call. He made some reference to
Hustler
magazine, which I didn’t quite catch-I didn’t want to offend the president of France, but this was getting stupid. I kept thinking, surely, someone will pop up and say something like, “Okay, the five minutes are up,” but the call just went on and on and on. By now, I was thinking
exit strategy.
And I kept trying to laugh, even though it was increasingly unfunny.

“I really love you!

” the Frenchman was saying. And finally:

“You’ve been pranked

we’re

comedians ftOm Montreal.”

I pulled the phone away ftOm my head and announced to the staff. “We’ve been pranked.”

Bexie turned white.

“Oh, we’ve been pranked,” I said into the phone. “What radio station is this?”

“Hello?” the man said. “If one voice change the world for

Obama, one Viagra can change the world for McCain.” I handed Bexie her cell phone.

“I’m sorry, I have to let you go,” Bexie said, near tears, already
imagining the heat about to come down from headquarters.

“Thank you.”

That’s when the
merde
hit the fan.

Right away, the phones statted ringing. One of the fitst calls was Schmidt, and the force of his screaming blew my hair back.

“How can anyone be so
stupid?!
Why would the president of France call a vice presidential candidate a few days out?!”
Good question,
I thought.

you the ones who set this uP?

As Schmidt’s rant blazed on, I pictured cell towers between D.C. and Florida bursting into flame. I held the phone slightly away ftOm my head.

•

.

Going Rogue

Then I got another call. “Governor, I am
so
sorry,” a campaign adviser said. “I put the calion the schedule. I thought it was vetted, but I was fooled, and I am
so
sorry.” I felt bad for him because he was an absolutely stellar professional, so I knew these radio guys had to be really good to get around him. We later found out that these same deejays had pranked a lot of leaders and including Bono, Mick

Jagger, Donald Trump, and Bill Gates. So we were in good company. His explanation was so heartfelt.

“Don’t worry about it, you don’t need to apologize,” I said. “It really is no big deal. We just need to dust off and move on.” When we reached Lakeland, Tucker bounded aboard the bus.

“This is terrible! Terrible! I need to know everything you said in that phone call!”

I said, “Tucker, I already told Bexie and Jason what I said. Now, why don’t we focus on how to fix this problem?”

“Well, this is just terrible!” he said, his face flushed red. With the higher-ups still foaming at headquarters, the B Team swung into action: Jason called a friend who worked for the Canadian prime minisrer and within five minutes had a transcript of rhe call. Then Tracey Schmitt wrote a terrific statement, which had already hit the press by the time the Lakeland rally began.

“Governor Palin was mildly amused to learn that she had joined the tanks of heads of state, including President Sarkozy, and othet celebrities in being targeted by these pranksters,” Tracey wrote.

“C’est la vie.”

As the campaign drew to a close, my family and I were still pumped. We were having the time of our lives, and we ramped up our efforrs to make clear to voters the distinctions between a McCain administration and an Obama administration, working

.

.

SARAH

PALIN

to win a few more vores. In the final day before the election, John and I crissctossed the nation separately in otdet to hit as many states as was physically possible. John touched down in Florida, Tennessee, Pennsylvania, Indiana, New Mexico, Nevada, and Arizona. The VP team moved ftom the east to the west, also chasing the sun, and hit seven tallies in Ohio, Missouri, Iowa, Colorado, and Nevada. Our families ptovided incredible support that day, speaking all over the nation at campaign events in key states. On November 3, we joined Chuck and Sally and Chuck Jr., and and Faye for a final late-evening event in a high school gym in Elko, Nevada, then flew thtough the night to Alaska to cast our votes. Todd and all our parents wete, in my opinion, some of the campaign’s best advocates fot John McCain’s message. It was perfect we got to wrap it all up, together, in a high school gym just like the one we’d all been joined together in when Todd and I met twenty-seven years eatlier. We had begun the journey when we landed in Arizona for vetting on a pitchblack night. Now, in the eatly hours of November 4, we landed in Anchorage in darkness, too. A fleet of Suburbans whisked us fifty miles ftom the airport to Wasilla, and when Todd and I arrived at City Hall, we were overjoyed to see ctowds of friends and suppotters standing in the ftigid arctic darkness cheering on one of their own. I was so humbled-and so excited to see everyone after the weeks away. It felt good to be home.

Aftet a tound of handshakes and hugs, I stepped into City Hall. It was a full-circle moment: the place where Todd and I cast our ballots for president and vice president of the United States was where I had attended the second grade and, later, all those city meetings. I was even wearing the wardtobe I had often

worn back then-jeans, a Carharrt jacket, and a relieved smile. I marveled at life’s Providentia.l paths. Others may call such events

“coincidences”; I believe they are miracles.

.

33°

•