Disarray at The Grand

So me and a friend who might have been Himal walk into the Cinnamon Grand. Use the entrance from the side, go in through the parking lot and come up through Cheers. Coffee Stop. Ahh.

Coffee Stop is yet another place where people who like spending ridiculous amounts on beverages go. This particular establishment, in the lobby of a hotel, is slightly less expensive than most of it’s siblings, while still costing enough to make you question why you’re there. I order lime juice.

Verily, I live the high life.

Friend orders some coffee concoction which looks like it was designed by Picasso. And executed by someone with an epileptic fit. The waiter grins, cheshire cat like. I don’t like cats.

We are seated, and start discussing what the true nature of the Statue of Liberty is. In the distance, a doorman scowls and picks up a walkie talkie device. The lobby is full of people. It is half full of white people. And a smattering of brown people from other countries too, but who cares about them?

In the discussion, it is suggested that the Statue of Liberty was really a Trojan Horse. Dismissive laughter emanates from a mouth hole. Dismissive. Somewhere below, a manager places the earpiece of his phone back on it’s cradle. He sighs.

After a thorough inspection of his spectacles, mostly because he could see his secretary’s legs in the reflection, he gets up and heads to the stairs.

It is discussed that Lady Liberty really is a Trojan Horse. Except the French forgot to build an exit for the troops. It moves on to whether it was Idle Hands that made God create the universe.

Before blasphemy could be committed, and scripture quoted, the manager walks up to us.

“Dear Sir your shorts are below regulation length and your shoes are below regulation coverage percentage.”

I stare at The Friend. Shorts and slippers. “Sir I am very sorry but I must ask you to leave, as the guests have complained that their children have been scarred by your hairy legs”, he continues.

“I must object my dear fellow, as I am yet to notice a soul even glancing in our direction.”

“Sir the gentleman next to you is wearing a gas mask and it certainly is not because he’s preparing for the holocaust.”

I look at TF’s feet. Egad. We stand up.” The man doth protest”. Slow motion. We push the manager back. The Friend kicks him in the midriff. He shouts,


We bolt. Two guards rush through the guests, who have by now surrounded the scene and were waving and clapping in glee, like sausage dogs watching a movie about hot dogs. It was grotesque. We push through the crowd and end up in a large room with a raised section in the middle, corridor-like paths around it. There are orbs hanging from the ceiling. The orbs descend, and open up like flowers. Ninjas in white track suits step out, sharpening their blades on their teeth.

We stand there frozen like a deer caught in the headlights of a speeding 138. We turn to run back the way we came, and hear the sound of something breaking through the far wall. It’s a 138. We stick our hands out as it runs over the ninjas like so many vegetarians being mowed over by the knowledge that they’re eating the very environment we’re trying to save. We get on.

We have no money. Alas, we are kicked out of the moving bus, unable to reason with the conductor due to our failure to look him in the eyes while we pleaded, thanks to his eyes burning so bright with rage it made our eyeballs see black dots everywhere. As my feet tumble off the footboard, everything goes black.

And we find ourselves on a platform, apparently on some scaffolding maybe 40 feet tall. It’s dark around, salty. Windy. The scaffolding wobbles. The Motocross. Trail bike engines. The commentator. Galle Face!

“Let’s give a big hand to the riders and their big gloves here today shall we? Come on!” goes the commentator’s voice. “We are truly honoured to have you here today”. If that’s not an inferiority complex, I don’t know what is. What is it with Sri Lankans and making our country seem like that desperate kid in school who’d be worshiping the ground his current crush walks on and says “Thank you” each time she talks to him? I am disappoint.

The platform wobbles again and we look down. The ninjas are back, and are climbing the sides of the scaffolding. Quite inefficiently, as a matter of fact. They shake it so much a rapper would be proud to call them his bitches. The tower of scaffolding starts to fall over, and we tumble into the crowd. Black again.

I wake up in my bed. Get out of bed, put on my slippers, slip on the patch of water outside the bathroom door and land on my posterior near the exit to my room. Get up again, get online. IM friend.

“Dude, I just had the weirdest dream”

“Me too!”

“You saw the same thing?! DUDE! Inception! Movie!”

“Uh, what did you see?”

“Coffee stop, ninjas, motocross”

“Oh. *phew*. It’s not dude. Like the movie. I dreamed something completely different.”


And most people would. I’m surprised Inception didn’t have the creepiest things from each person’s mind in it. I mean, last time I dreamed, I came out of it feeling like I was about to be chased by a mob of angry villagers. Brilliant movie though.


Update/Note: None of this ever happened. We didn’t even go to Coffee Stop after the motocross thing and I doubt there are ninjas there either.


26 Responses to “Disarray at The Grand”

  1. November 7, 2010 at 9:28 pm

    He lies! This was no dream, I assure you. It really did happen.

  2. 2 Chavie
    November 7, 2010 at 9:39 pm

    Hahaha, so that’s how the redbull motorcross went? πŸ˜€ On a weirder note, I was just about to publish a post about rubber slippers. 😯

  3. November 7, 2010 at 10:11 pm

    Nice…… I just forget anything I see as soon as I wake up :\


  4. November 7, 2010 at 10:41 pm

    Erm.. so what is this post really about? :O

  5. November 8, 2010 at 4:13 am

    The orbs descend, and open up like flowers.

    Er…how high were you when you wrote this post? πŸ˜› And no shit you got kicked out of Cinnamon Grand…it’s a 5 star hotel, not a saivar kade! πŸ˜›

  6. November 8, 2010 at 5:07 am

    Haha. I didn’t like inception very much, but your post made me laugh. Nice writing!

  7. November 8, 2010 at 9:13 am

    meh. didn’t u know shorts and sippers were not allowed?! :I tut.

  8. November 8, 2010 at 9:20 am

    lol u got booted outta the cinammon grand cos of ur bata’s?! even kandy folk know better than that πŸ˜›

  9. November 8, 2010 at 9:28 am

    @ All
    Read the little note at the bottom πŸ˜›

  10. 15 chathuraw
    November 8, 2010 at 9:35 am


    Hahaha. ROFL πŸ˜€

    So seriously.. At least a part of this actually happened right? The part with the ninjas?

  11. November 8, 2010 at 12:47 pm



    I really needed this! Thanks Jerry Berry!

  12. November 8, 2010 at 7:35 pm


    Made my morning!

  13. November 10, 2010 at 1:04 pm

    β€œTHIS. IS. BATAAAAAA!” got me too πŸ˜†

  14. November 10, 2010 at 4:14 pm

    The devil wears BATAAAAAAAA!!

    Truly epic!

  15. November 12, 2010 at 7:04 pm

    Im sure i saw that BATA line at St. Fallens FB profile. But i stole it once too. It’s an open source world

  16. November 18, 2010 at 2:19 am

    Well I have a feeling Himal was wearing the same pair of shorts the day I met him πŸ˜› Doubt if he would manage to kick anyone, inversion be the more probable πŸ˜›

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