I'm sitting here in an empty airport terminal in Houston. It's 2 am local time. I know this because of the clock on the wall and not because of my phone which, for some reason, still shows west coast time. And that is why I'm where I am instead of a hotel bed in Austin. I got off my plane in Denver and checked my phone and noted that I had two hours to make my connecting flight to Austin. Cool, I'll get dinner. So I did. Then I casually stroll back to my gate, stopping in the restroom on the way. As I reach my gate, I sit down and plug in my electronics. There's an asshole at the desk ranting to the agent about missing his flight and that he needs to be in Austin. What? That's when I notice the wall clock. It's an hour ahead of my phone's clock. My plane is pulling away from the gate. Fuck.