Santorblk the robot valet and caddy stared at his master with concern in his optical sensors. "What's wrong, sir? We've made the trip without incident, and will be landing momentarily or thereabouts."
"Can't expect you to understand, Santoblk; you're not programmed for such data. But that's Pluto down there, as you well know. My purpose for making this trip was to play in the first ever Interplanetary Golf Tournament."
"I know all this, sir. But we're here, and the games haven't started. What's the problem?"
"The problem is that someone back on Earth forgot to adjust the chronometer for sidereal time--and I've just realized this. I'm first up, with a tee time exactly 2 minutes and 16 seconds from now. There's no way I'm going to get there on time. Why, I'll be the laughing stock of the entire Solar System! Even worse than that--I'll lose my entrance fee refund, we'll be damn near broke--and have to hitchhike all the way back to Earth!"
"But sir. The Uranus Lesser Tournament is coming up in less than two years. Perhaps you can make that."
"Uranus? Uranus!!! Confound it all, Santorblk, what's Uranus got when compared to what I'm going to miss here on Pluto!"