My flight out of Salt Lake City was delayed. Not that big a deal. Then they changed planes, so my seat got reassigned to the ass-end of the plane. In front of a mother with a toddler and baby. Who didn't kick my seat too much, I suppose.
After arriving in Atlanta, at the last concourse, I got to wait, oh, at least half an hour for my luggage. The carousel stopped moving at one point. No one had any idea what was going on. Luggage arrived, soaking wet.
I called my coworkers, told them I couldn't handle dinner, and am sitting in my pajamas in the hotel room, eating a gyro and watching the Saints kick some ass.