Doing the inbound #12, on Madison at Broadway, this gent with a shopping cart wants the lift. I thus deploy the lift and he boards the bus. Stowing the lift, however, was against Satan's wishes, and it got stuck halfway between up and down. Furthermore, any attempt to overcome this little issue was met with the interor lights blinking out momentarily and the back door opening and closing in a most menacing manner.
I yell for help.
A supervisor, old school, comes by. He doesn't know jack about this model of coach and isn't shy about letting me know what a hunk of junk it is. He agrees that Professional Help is indicated, and he summons an exorcist, er, mechanic. This latter worthy pronounces the bus dead, and the supervisor drives me back to the base to get another one, leaving that possessed menace to society with its tongue forever stuck out. A wrecker is summoned, but I miss that part.
I get a new bus, drive it for about 1/2 hour, including 20 minutes sitting on my butt waiting for the right time, then drive it to the point where I normall get relieved by another driver. Verily scores of people on Capitol Hill are pissed off, but really, if you asked them about it, would they agree to walk into Satan's Mouth?