The bus stories have taken over my career in recent years, but for decades I had already been a reporter on diplomatic and political affairs. On the one hand, the soft stories of what is good in life mark a sharp contrast with the hard news of sleazy politics. On the other hand, the two aspects of my life have had the opportunity to come together.
On one occasion, for example, Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu actually tried calling me even as I was sitting on a bus. I would have preferred to have been seeking out some great heartwarming exchange among passengers as I rode home after another day of reporting on the news.
Instead, my phone rang. It was the prime minister. Actually, it was his aide: “Hello, David. Mr. Netanyahu would like to speak to you.”
But you know how it is; buses can be noisy. Kids were making noise. Maybe it was a good atmosphere for a bus story but not for a conversation with a prime minister. So I told the top aide – who himself could hear the noise – that perhaps it wasn’t such a good time to be discussing the Iranian nuclear threat.
What evolved was a worst case scenario. That’s because I did not wind up speaking to Netanyahu to perhaps glean some good information for a potentially exclusive news report. Yet, as I found myself shouting at the aide, just to overcome the noise of the baby crying to his mother in the seat next to me, I managed to anger the bus driver because apparently my authoritative radiophonic voice was more disconcerting than a small child’s shrill.
I sheepishly apologized to the driver, but explained that I was on the phone with the Prime Minister’s Office. “Yeah, right!” was the look on the driver’s face, though he didn’t actually say anything. But then he did say something: “And I’m the Pope!” he countered, with an incredulous look on his face.
In a later bus ride when things were calmer and I had the opportunity to travel with the same driver, he asked me: “Really now: with whom else have you spoken?”
“President Obama,” I replied. Now he really thought I was hallucinating and wondered if, in fact, the pope would be next.
By the way, did I tell you about the time that Obama traveled with me on the bus? Well, almost.
It was March 2017. So actually, it was a couple of months after Obama had left the White House. It was also around Purim time, when people wear masks.
And there was this guy sitting next to me on the bus wearing a Barack Obama mask.
I say to him: “You’re a little out of date.”
He: “Yeah, but still, when was the last chance you had to speak to a US president?”
Me: “Oh, I’d say about a couple of months ago.”
He could only stare in disbelief.
I guess people who speak to world leaders – I had chatted with Obama twice during the final months of his presidency – are not expected to be riding public transportation.
Although, that isn’t necessarily the case.
The current US president himself, Joe Biden, is said to have earned the nickname “Amtrak Joe” in recognition of the rail line he frequented through decades of senior public service.
“Biden rode Amtrak almost daily between Washington and his home in Wilmington, Delaware, during his 36 years as a US senator. As vice president, he went home by train most weekends to visit his mother, who was ill, before she passed away,” the Associated Press recently noted.
I’ve recently had the opportunity to speak briefly with Biden. And in a conversation with one of the president’s aides, I suggested that Biden and I should write a book together consisting of his train tales and my bus stories.
As opposed to top officials who travel on public transportation, there are Israeli bus drivers – well, at least one – who’ve had Secret Service protection. And here’s how I found out:
One evening while riding the bus from Jerusalem to Beit Shemesh, I was practically the only passenger. So, of course I got into a conversation with the driver. I joked with him that it’s cool having my own personal driver in such a spacious vehicle.
I then told him that in my reporting career, I’ve covered many prime ministers and other top officials and got to know some of their drivers, but consider myself especially privileged to be getting the VIP treatment from someone as pleasant as him tonight on the bus.
“You’re joking!” he replies.
“I was a driver for several ministers – never the prime minister – but still very pressured, so much in the last moment and without notice,” he adds.
“It was too much. So I decided I wanted to stop. Instead, I became a bus driver so that I could drive the really special people, the day-to-day passengers on the bus.”
He lists some of the ministers.
Then he says to me: “It’s much more pleasant speaking to you than to any of those ministers.”
And then he says: “You know what? They should write a book about us. It could be called: the stories of one guy who drove government ministers and another who reported on them and how they both wound up together on the bus one evening.”
“That’s a long title,” I say.
“That’s OK,” he replies. “I know someone in public relations; he’ll know how to make it sound better.”
This is my life: world affairs and bus stories.
I received two phone calls one night in February. First, one of the bus drivers with whom I frequently have traveled called me. He told me that he finished work early because of the snow that day, but that on his final trip out of Jerusalem to Beit Shemesh late in the afternoon, a boarding passenger was so excited that there was still bus service, he offered the driver a gift certificate from the supermarket where he works.
Nice story, I love that bus drivers have taken my number and call me periodically to tell me of their experiences. But as soon as I got off the phone, it rang again.
It’s the Biden aide. Not only did it snow in Jerusalem and various other places in Israel that day, Netanyahu and Biden spoke for the first time since the president had taken office the previous month.
And my second phone call that night was from the Biden aide.
“They spoke,” he says. “Just between me and you, the president and prime minister have spoken. There will soon be a statement. Thanks for your help. You and I will talk again soon... Oh, and by the way, I was getting call-waiting for a long time. Anything interesting?”
Me: “Bus driver.”
He: “Bus driver?!”
So, the Biden aide might have thought it was weird that I spoke to bus drivers, but the drivers think that they make better interviewees than world leaders.
Driver asks me: “How many prime ministers have you interviewed?
Me: “Seven.”
He: “And how many bus drivers have you interviewed?”
Me: “Oh, countless.”
He: “And tell me the truth: who gives you better answers to your questions?”
The prime minister’s motorcade is driving through the narrow streets of Jerusalem near his official residence. I notice that a car is stopped at the curb, blocking traffic, an older woman is getting out of the car slowly... and here comes the motorcade.
I wave my hands in the air, motioning to the motorcade. First there is a call on the motorcade loudspeaker to get out of the way. Then, as the front vehicle of the motorcade approaches, a security agent emerges, with a stern look on his face.
Then he sees the older woman, and his demeanor changes. He asks the woman if she’s alright. She says that she has pains, so it’s hard for her to move.
The security agent explains that the prime minister is waiting in the motorcade, and asks the woman and the driver of her car if they could just turn at the corner to a side street so that the motorcade can go through without having to go dangerously into oncoming traffic.
The woman and her driver agree. The security agent gently places the woman back into her seat, puts on her seat belt, and thanks her for her understanding.
The car with the older woman turns into a side street, and the prime minister of the State of Israel was able to go home.
And finally, one more episode of the two worlds of world leaders and commonfolk coming together, this time when I really did receive Secret Service protection.
I was walking near the Presidential Residence in Jerusalem. An elderly woman wanted to cross the street. So a security guard shouted toward me and asked if I could cross with the woman. In return, the presidential security detail did its part. It provided protection for me and the woman.
We crossed without difficulty because the security personnel held up their hands, stopped the oncoming cars, and the elderly woman succeeded in crossing to the other side. She was so grateful for the help that she wrote down her phone number on a piece of paper and handed it to one of the guards: “Come to my home for lunch sometime. You work so hard,” she said.