Do Fun: Escaping, Screaming, and Remembering Joy

Tangerang, June 17th 2025 — We all have those weeks where everything feels loud—deadlines, notifications, responsibilities, all screaming at once. Last week was one of those weeks for me. So I decided to unplug, hop on a commuter train, and escape to the place I hadn’t been to since school trips were a thing: Dufan.

I didn’t expect much—maybe a little nostalgia, a brief distraction. But Dufan gave me more than that. It gave me space to breathe again.

From the moment I walked through its familiar gates, the noise in my head began to fade. Not because Dufan was quiet—it never was. It was full of screams, laughter, rollercoasters clanking, speakers blasting cheesy pirate music. But the right kind of noise. The kind that reminds you it’s okay to let go for a while.

I rode Halilintar and screamed like a student finally free from a week of stressful assignments, in that scream, I left more than just my voice—I left a little of the stress behind. Next, I floated on the Bianglala, watching Jakarta’s skyline blur into the sea. For a brief moment at the top, it didn’t feel like I was escaping life. It felt like I was in it, more than I had been in a long time.

There was something oddly healing about standing in line with strangers—just as sweaty, just as thrilled—under the scorching sun. I sipped an overpriced orange juice while watching someone wobble off Hysteria, her face ghost-white but proud. We locked eyes for a second and laughed—no words needed. We were all in the same boat: escaping, if only for a day. Later, my sister and I bet on who'd chicken out of Kora-Kora first. And when it finally swung high above the crowd, I forgot I was tired. I forgot about deadlines, stress, and everything else waiting outside. In that moment, joy didn’t have to be complicated, expensive, or far away. It was enough to just be there—laughing, screaming, and letting go.

Nothing about it was elegant. My voice cracked, my eyes watered, and I probably looked ridiculous. But it was perfect. For the first time in days, I wasn’t worrying about college, or responsibilities, or who I hadn’t replied to. I was just there—present, alive.

Dufan wasn’t just a theme park that day—it was a reminder. That joy doesn’t always come from something big or far away. That laughter, even the silly kind, heals more than we realize. That maybe, once in a while, we all need to scream like kids again—no shame, no deadlines.

When I left the park that evening, my legs were sore, my face sunburnt, my wallet a little lighter—but my heart? Lighter too.

If you’ve been carrying too much lately, this is your sign:

Take a break. Ride something fast. Eat something sweet. Laugh too loudly. Let yourself be ridiculous.

Because sometimes, a short escape is the most honest way to come back to yourself.