Helianthus

Husband and I flew back home today, via Denver again.  (His flight out went through Vegas, and was uneventful.)  We arrived on time, we had a three-hour layover, we'd be fine, we figured.  So we ventured out to find Schlotzky's, a regional sandwich chain we don't seem to have in California, because I was hungry.

And returned to FIND OUR FREAKING FLIGHT BOARDING HALF AN HOUR EARLY JUST BECAUSE THEY COULD. 

Edited to add: It didn't actually take us two and a half hours to obtain a sandwich.  The airport's huge, but not that huge.  But we found a seat in a quiet terminal to kill some time, because we foolishly thought Denver had finished toying with us.