The next morning Wolf and I set out on our search for Dover"s bus station. Following the directions of the Trailways employee, we made our way to the Blue Hen Mall and then looked across the street. No bus station.
"Maybe it's behind the mall." Wolf offered.
"Naw, she said it was across the street from the mall."
Wolf pulled into the parking lot of the strip mall that lie directly across from the Blue Hen. "There's nothing here except these stores and that Hertz place over there."
I had to admit he was right. There was no evidence that a bus station existed, or had ever existed, in this area. Wolf arched his eyebrows, "Perhaps she meant the Dover Mall instead of the Blue Chicken."
Hell, anything was possible at this point. We continued our drive up the road towards the Dover Mall, all the while keeping an eye out for our missing bus station.
This was my second or third trip up Route 13 into Dover proper and like the salsa at Chi-Chi's, it had so far failed to impress me. It was a state capital, and having seen quite a few capitals in my time, I'd come to expect a certain look and feel: Big corporate buildings, hordes of people in a rush to get somewhere, congested traffic, honking horns, pollution -the whole spicy nine yards. Dover was nothing more than a highway with restaurants and hotels on either side with a Wal-Mart and a mall thrown in for flavor. My god, there was a small cornfield in between the Taco Bell and Kentucky Fried Chicken! The town barely rated a "Mild" on the Green Pepper Meter, but if the French could convince Americans to buy water in a bottle, then damned if Dover wasn't going to try and make lightning strike twice. They dumped a lot of crap into the bowl, hoping the sheer bulk of national superstore chains and the odd racetrack would distract the casual viewer enough so he wouldn't be aware of the thin, bland soup within which all these stale chunks floated. Dover was doing its best to convince you that it was genuine Pace Picante, but why did I always feel like someone passed the Old El Paso?
As we drove past the Agricultural Museum, Wolf decided to share this Pearl of Wisdom: "As long as I"ve been here, I don"t ever remember seeing a bus station."
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