Someone had to say it

From telcos that ghost you mid-bill cycle to Facebook groups where kindness still comes with a trigger warning, it’s been another week of “only in Sri Lanka” moments. Oh, and the internet found a plane seat with freaky survival energy. Let’s get into it.

Low Bars, Dropped Calls, and Even Lower Standards

At this point, bad mobile data isn’t even an inconvenience; it’s a national experience. The buffering, the ghost bars, the magical disappearing 4G, all part of the package. You’ll be standing under a tower, clutching a full signal, and still somehow unable to load a basic webpage.

And it’s not just the data. Try talking to customer service and you’ll discover another layer of absurdity. Credit limits? Apparently, just a suggestion. One unpaid amount — well below your limit — and boom: your connection is cut like you’ve committed telecom treason.

You complain, they “escalate.” Nothing happens. You ask for a refund. They gaslight you. You try switching providers and realise it’s the same circus with different logos.

What’s wild is how normal this has become. We pay premium prices for services that would struggle to pass a speed test from 2009. And somehow, we're made to feel like we're the unreasonable ones for expecting… functionality.

Last Word: In Sri Lanka, it’s not that we don’t have options. It’s that the options all suck in slightly different fonts.

Why Is “Please Be Kind” Even Necessary?

You know things are bad when asking for basic advice online now comes with a trigger warning. Scroll through any local Facebook group and you’ll find it - someone looking for a recommendation, maybe a female gynaecologist, or job advice, or help with a personal situation - and right at the end: “Please be kind.”

Why do we even have to say that? Since when did asking a simple question become an open invitation for sarcasm, judgment, and unsolicited attitude?

Want a female doctor? Suddenly, you're accused of hating men. Ask for job leads? Advice? Cue the “learn to Google” snarks and outdated hustle-culture one-liners. Somewhere in the chaos, buried deep, you’ll find one helpful comment, but you’ll have to sift through a minefield of ego to get there.
It’s like people are just waiting to pounce. Not to help. Not to contribute. Just to perform. To be clever, condescending, or weirdly offended by a stranger’s medical preference.

Here’s a thought: if you don’t want to help, just keep scrolling.

Last Word: Kindness isn’t that hard, but apparently, in the comments section, it’s rarer than actual useful advice.

Two Crashes. One Seat. Zero Explanation.

Last Thursday, over 270 people were killed when a London-bound Air India flight crashed just after takeoff from Ahmedabad. It was one of India’s worst aviation disasters in recent memory.

But what caught global attention wasn’t just the scale of the tragedy; it was seat 11A. One of the survivors, Vishwash Kumar Ramesh, happened to be sitting in that exact spot.

And in an eerie coincidence, Thai actor James Loychusak survived a 1998 plane crash… also from seat 11A.

Now people are buzzing about “the lucky seat.” It’s gone viral, of course. Because we love a number. We love a pattern. And we’ll take anything that makes something this horrific feel slightly less senseless.

But here’s the thing: seat numbers don’t save people. Safety protocols do. Infrastructure does. Competent management does.

Still, there’s something about this coincidence that makes you pause, not because it offers answers, but because it reminds you how fragile everything is. And how survival, sometimes, doesn’t follow logic.

Last Word: Whatever the reason, seat 11A has now earned a reputation, and you can bet it’s going to be the most requested seat on every flight that has one.

Until next week, may your data work, your comment section behave, and your plane seat not go viral.
– Rihaab