You don't know who I AM?

Yesterday I was at my gate at the airport, waiting to board my plane. I was in group 2, and there was a fairly large number of people standing behind me, when one gentleman approached the counter and demanded the attention of the attendant who was trying to check me in. He's one of *those* guys... with the expensive Italian suits on, bluetooth in ear, important leather briefcase in hand, and constipated look on his face. He wanted to get on this flight because he missed his last flight. I wait patiently as this important-looking man holds up the entire line so that he can be helped... even though he very well could have just 5 minutes ago, before everyone started boarding. The flight attendant made some calls and could not help this man.
"I'm sorry, sir, but I cannot do that for you."
"Excuse me? Are you sure? Do you know who I am? Does executive platinum platinum mean ANYTHING to you people?"
I almost died. Twice. I snickered a little and the man looked at me clearly irritated. Executive platinum platinum. That means nothing to me. The man could be the Pope and I would still make him wait, damnit. Of course the man can get a ticket now. And he gets upgraded to first class. Why would executive platinum platinum members sit in coach? Seriously. Don't you know who this guy is? He's executive platinum platinum. Not executive. Not executive platinum. Executive platinum platinum.
At least he didn't request to jump to the front of the line, too. Silly man. I bet he'd feel a lot better if he made a good visit to the bathroom and rid himself of all the evil that was accumulating in his poor 5'7" body.