Many years ago -- 1986 -- I missed a flight because they'd rebooked me on an earlier flight and I didn't know about it until I got to the airport and they told me, "You missed your flight!"
I lived two hours from the airport. So I'd left 3 hours before my flight. About 2 hours before my flight was to leave, they'd called my home to say they'd rebooked me on a flight leaving in one hour.
Not only was I en route and therefore not at home to get the phone call (and this was before cell phones), I lived two hours away. So even IF I'd been home, giving me one hour's notice wasn't going to cut it.
It was a freaking nightmare. A two hour flight turned into a twelve hour extravaganza. Best part -- I was flying to go to a job interview. Even better -- on one of those legs of that 12 hours extravaganza, a so-called two year old sitting on his mother's lap (the size of 4 year old), who'd been hitting and kicking me for the better part of an hour, spilled OJ all over my suit. You know, THE suit you wear to an important job interview? That suit. So when I finally got off the flight and was met by the Grand Pooba, it was the NEXT DAY and not only was my suit wrinkled, I REEKED of sour OJ.
I wasn't surprised when I didn't get the job. It's hard to overcome the negatives of reeking of sour OJ during a job interview or not having slept the night before.
More recently, we came close a couple of times due to tremendous delays getting through security.