So, I’m sitting on Bibi Netanyahu’s living room sofa in his Jerusalem home, working shoulder-to-shoulder with him as a writer on his 2009 campaign…
Look, folks, you’re just going to have to trust me on this. I have images to prove it, but I’m not about to post the layout of the Prime Minister’s living room on the Internet, okay?
Sorry terrorists (if you’re reading this from a cave) my job is not to make your lives easy.
The truth is; I lead a blessed life. Which is what woke me up from the atheist fog that I was living in to first become a believer in God, and then to become a Jew.
And this won’t be the last time I write something that makes you say: “really?” Like the time I spent working on behalf of the Dalai Lama (more on that here). You’ll either believe me or not. All I can say is: don’t hate the player, and I never lie (as you will see here).
Which brings us to the story I like to call: “Bibi Netanyahu and the Case of My Missing Pants.”
I was working for Bibi on Israel’s 2009 campaign, which actually began as Israel’s 2008 campaign. But it paused in December 2008 because of Operation Cast Lead. Since I didn’t live in Israel, and since the campaign was effectively on hold, I decided to fly back to North America to spend a week with my family.
That was when my pants went missing.
The thing about the security staff at Ben Gurion Airport is: they’re brilliant at noticing what’s out of place. Like the peaceful, happy smile on my face while they were grilling me. Why was I smiling? Because I absolutely loved being in Israel, I knew I’d be coming back soon for the second half of the campaign, and I especially loved being able to see the world-famous security staff of Ben Gurion airport in action.
Even when they took away my pants.
Long story short: I made it onto my plane (with my smile and my dignity intact, thank you for asking) just in time for a peaceful flight home.
Then, as I sat on my own living room sofa back home, my phone rang.
It was Bibi.
The thing about being Bibi is: everyone wants to get him on the phone. Everyone. Everyone except me. My job was to help him win the election. So, letting him waste any time on the phone with me, talking about the case of my missing pants instead of using that time to campaign or save the country, was the textbook definition of me not doing my job.
So I tried to get Bibi off the phone.
Apparently I was the first person in history to ever try to get Bibi off the phone. In hindsight I should have known that it would only make him want to keep me on the phone longer, to find out more about this strange man who wanted to get him off the phone.
So we talked. For a while. In my defense, I believe I succeeded in getting him off the phone as quickly as possible – telling him that we could discuss things in person when I returned to Israel for the final leg of the campaign.
When I returned to Israel, I was happily consumed by my campaign work, and he was happily consumed by his. Which is the way things should be. And we won the election. Which is the way things must be, especially at this time in Israel’s history.
Better to lose one’s pants than to lose an election – or perhaps even lose Israel.