I Simply Must Know What Dale Does to The Girls on the Bus Next

Whenever I try to open WarnerMedia’s screener app to watch as-yet-unaired episodes of television for work, it starts autoplaying episodes of the Max TV series The Girls on the Bus. Because of this, I have watched so many episodes of The Girls on the Bus. The show’s a meld between the real-life experience of reporting on a campaign trail — it’s based on Amy Chozick’s book about covering Hillary Clinton in 2016 — and a late-2010s ABC Network ShondaLand show. The political commentary and light soapy nonsense don’t exactly mix, but like oil and water just sort of slosh against each other.

Melissa Benoist plays an overly chipper reporter named Sadie McCarthy for an ersatz New York Times who is covering a variety of ersatz Hillary-like candidates (Joanna Gleason and Hettienne Park’s characters both fit the type) during a primary, as well as a Trumpy movie star (Mark Consuelos) and an uncomfortably sexy and straight take on Mayor Pete (Scott Foley). The gist of the thing is that Sadie has all sorts of serious journalistic aspirations, but also she has feelings, and she is always struggling to reconcile the two. And of course, inevitably, she hooks up with a guy who becomes the press secretary for a candidate she covers. This is where we get to my favorite part of the show, which, to its credit, I simply cannot stop watching. No, not the total tropiness of this plot device — in Sadie’s defense, she points out that she didn’t know he was going to be working with someone she was covering at the time — but the fact that she’s caught by Dale. Dale, played by Cole Escola, star of Off Broadway sensation Oh, Mary!

Dale, a devious yet stuffy reporter covering a Biden-esque figure (who, by the way, tries to prove he’s fit enough to run a 5K, then dies) at this in-universe Times, is introduced in the show’s third episode as an immediately antagonistic presence toward Sadie. (She also has a rival/mentor in Carla Gugino, a scoop expert a generation older at a fake version of the Washington Post. I have only good things to say about Gugino, and I hope this paycheck funds several more exciting new plays for her Off Broadway.) Dale and Sadie already hate each other for reasons of competitiveness — whoever covers the candidate who wins the primary might get a shot at the White House beat — and the natural enmity that lies between twinks and ingénues who wear quirky hats. “How’s that Styles story coming?” he asks her in the middle of a press huddle about his candidate’s collapse. “How’s the food on Spirit Airlines, Dale?” she goes. Then, at the end of the episode, Sadie kisses that press secretary again, just as Dale is wandering down the hallway and stumbles upon them. Escola delivers a gasp for the ages while wearing a Creamsicle-colored sweater and cross-body bag.

The material is far below Escola’s talent, yet they elevate it into high melodrama, as if nothing could be more important in the world than one starchy reporter’s vendetta against this breach of journalistic ethics. In the next episode, Dale’s antagonism escalates: He slides onscreen at a party going, “Helllllooo, Sadie.” He tells her that he’s not mad about being sent back to New York (because his candidate is dead) because, “I haven’t had a good Grindr date or a bagel in months.” He sings “You’re So Vain” at a media karaoke party at her in the middle of a crowded room. I have to respect the pettiness.

Eventually, this does convince Sadie to fess up to her editor, but surely Dale is not yet done with his revenge mission. I must know what he does next. Will Sadie get fired for this? Who will be the next president in this fictional universe? Will Sadie eventually hook up with this fake Mayor Pete guy? (Seems uncomfortably plausible.) Who cares! All that matters is Dale’s pursuit of maniacally beige revenge.