I had been gone for around two months, rattling around all over Europe and having a great time. However, I was ready to go home, and my Athens-to-Chicago flight was the first leg of the way home. (There were two more flights after that one, plus a three-hour layover in one city; 30 hours altogether.)
When I checked in at the Athens airport, The gentleman at the flight desk told me that there had been a mistake, and that I could not get on that flight. I must have turned very pale. He hustled out from behind the counter, took my arm, and escorted me to a seat not far from his desk. He told me, "Don't worry. I will find a way to get you on that flight."
I had shown up three hours before the flight, as instructed by the travel agency. It was very difficult to keep my nose in my book as the time crawled by. I think it took the better part of two hours, but eventually, I saw him smile and beckon me to the desk.
He said, "I have a seat for you. You will be home on time." He handed me a new ticket. It was in business class - not quite as nice as First Class, but it was very nice. Lots of foot room, lots of elbow room, and only two seats clumped together in one area.