ANALYSIS: Who’s Tracking Me? Not Big Brother (This Time)

I could blame it on the summer heat—or perhaps on a sugar rush—but in all honesty, it likely came from the paranoia I’ve developed as a privacy nerd. Big Brother is always watching, right?

Tracking. Surveillance. Facial recognition. Geolocation. All of that and more popped into my head a couple of weeks ago when I spent a day with my two youngest kids and their friends at “The Sweetest Place On Earth”: Hersheypark in Hershey, Pennsylvania.

Yes, I purchased my tickets online. Yes, I provided my phone number. Yes, I clicked the box saying that I agreed to the Terms and Conditions. No, I did not read them.

“We use the information we collect about you to process orders and to provide a more personalized user experience.”

Hmm, I thought to myself upon reviewing the T&C after our visit. My amusement park adventure was certainly “personalized.”

Here’s what happened: After our electronic tickets were scanned and we entered the park, we headed straight for Hershey’s newest roller coaster, “Candymonium.”

My daughter objected. “No way! I’m not going on that thing!” Something about a 210-foot drop at 76 mph caused her considerable apprehension.

Fine, I said, and pointed her and her friend in the direction of the carousel.

The rest of us lined up for a two-and-a-half-minute thrill ride. It was excellent!

As we exited the coaster, I picked up the items I had left in the cubbies at the ride’s station.

The cell phone in my hand dinged.

It was a text message: a photo of me, my son, and his friend on the very coaster we were exiting.

I’m the one on the right, holding on for dear life.

How could that be? I had left my phone at the station. How did Hershey know I was on that coaster, in that seat, at that time?

Tracking? Surveillance? Facial recognition? Geolocation?

I must write about this, I thought.

A few days later I mentioned my story idea at the dinner table.

My daughter burst into laughter. “Really, Dad, are you kidding?” she said. “I was the one who sent you that picture!”

Sigh. Sometimes Big Brother turns out to be none other than “Little Daughter.”

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