I woke up at 6:30, called American and asked if my flight was on time. They told me it was.

I got to the airport and asked the gate agent if my flight was on time. They told me it was.

I got to the Admirals Club, asked the agent there if my flight was on time. They told me it was.

I left the Admirals Club, checked the board to see if my flight was on time. It told me it was.

I boarded the plane, sat down, buckled my seatbelt, and opened up a magazine. The pilot announced over the PA that a cloud had miraculously appeared in the sky over San Francisco, and now the plane was grounded for at least an hour.

Yeah, I may be writing this from the lobby of the Saint Francis now, but dammit, if I wasn't such a gentle, calm, unflappable kinda guy, this sort of thing could really piss me off.