We’d hopped aboard the #82 bus near our Liverpool accommodations for a view of the city the way the locals see it. We rode it down a leafy suburban street to the end of the line, where the bus driver told us we had to get off. When I asked where we could catch the same bus to get back, he pointed to another area of the terminal. We walked there, but then saw our driver change his bus to #86A, which I knew would get us down to Liverpool’s dockside area. We got back on his bus, which I think annoyed him. Very strange. But that’s how the magic happened.