Why Did They Take the Fun Out of Everything?
It was just a moment. A gas station stop, a glance at an old green and yellow St. Gallen-Gais-Appenzell train car, my daughter's voice cutting through the noise of the world:
“Why did they take the fun out of everything?”
She was looking at a relic—an old train from another time. A time when moving between train cars meant stepping outside, feeling the wind, maybe the rain, before entering the next compartment. Now, everything is sealed, connected by sterile, enclosed corridors. No weather, no wind, no risk.
And my daughter is right. Something has changed.
The Death of Texture
Life used to have texture. Surfaces were rough, unpredictable, imperfect. Streets had cracks. Playgrounds had metal slides that burned in the sun and carousels that spun until you flew off. You felt things.
Now? Everything is softened, flattened, designed for maximum comfort and minimal experience. Every surface is smoothed over, every risk engineered away. We are padded from reality.
We no longer step outside when moving between train cars. We no longer roll down windows to feel the air. Airbags, helmets, guardrails, disclaimers. The world is now a safe, sealed-off experience.
But at what cost?
Safety is the modern gospel. Every risk, no matter how small, is something to be managed, eliminated. Every unpredictable moment is a problem to be solved.
It started with good intentions—seatbelts, regulations, protections. But it didn’t stop there.
We weren’t just made safe. We were made passive.
We now consume life rather than live it. We move through pre-planned experiences, optimized for convenience. We are locked into predictable loops, from curated Netflix recommendations to algorithm-driven newsfeeds, never forced to step outside, never forced to feel the elements.
We don’t make choices. We select from options.
Predictability has replaced adventure. Efficiency has replaced excitement. Protection has replaced freedom.
The Consequences: A Generation That Never Feels the Wind
So where does this lead? What happens when an entire generation grows up without ever stepping into the wind?
- When playgrounds are designed so no one can scrape a knee?
- When childhood is a controlled environment of supervised playdates and GPS-tracked outings?
- When every moment is optimized for comfort, entertainment, and safety?
It creates a generation unfamiliar with discomfort. And unfamiliar with discomfort means unfamiliar with resilience, courage, and the joy that comes from overcoming risk.
We now fear the real world. We see it as something to be managed, mitigated. But life has never been safe. Life is wild, unpredictable. It’s stepping between train cars into the cold air, not knowing exactly what awaits on the other side.
We used to embrace that. Now, we engineer it away.
What We Lose When We Eliminate Risk
This isn’t just nostalgia for metal playgrounds and open train cars. It’s about the bigger shift.
A society that removes risk, unpredictability, and discomfort also removes agency, responsibility, and meaning.
Think about it:
-If nothing is uncertain, nothing is exciting.
-If nothing is dangerous, nothing is thrilling.
-If everything is pre-planned, no one needs to be brave.
A world without risk, challenge, or uncertainty is a world without true adventure, true growth, and ultimately, true fun.
And maybe that’s the real answer to the question:
Why did they take the fun out of everything?
Because a world that is too safe, too controlled, and too optimized—stops being worth living in.
Years later, I saw it again. Teenagers lying on the asphalt in the rain.
No one had told them to do it. They just wanted to feel something real.
Maybe they had spent too much time in padded rooms, behind locked doors, in structured routines that made sure nothing unexpected could happen. Maybe, in a world that had taken the fun out of everything, they had found the only loophole left.
They couldn’t step between train cars into the wind. They couldn’t climb trees that hadn’t been pre-approved for safety. But they could lie on the asphalt and feel the cold rain soak through their clothes.
And so they did.
It was the last place where they were still allowed to step outside.