A Great Wolf in sheep's clothing

Subtitled: Give Me Convenience or Give Me Death

At the tail end of our Canadian excursion we decided to make a stop for the kid's, in Niagara Falls, ON, at an indoor water park. A seemingly potential petri dish of fun and excitement with an unexpected side order of scary. Now this type of entertainment may be common but it was new to me. Upon check in we were given wrist bands similar to what you may see at Seabreeze and the like. We were told to take great care in there installation, not to tight not to loose, but just right, as once there were on they could only be removed by cutting them off. In fact these weren't the Tyvek type bands but the kind you may see in a hospital with holes and pins and locking mechanisms.

At this point were were instructed as to the proper use of these bands. Huh?

I knew then what they were. I flipped the band over to see what I knew was going to be there. An RFID chip.These bands defined us. They were us.

Here I was, thrust into a social experiment, when my mind was gratefully elsewhere after a week of banging around a Canadian metropolis. (Side note: Very little TV watched, not a single pharmaceutical ad to be seen.) I embraced the task of analysis of my demeanor and observed my children's actions under the watchful eye of the band.

Our submission granted us access to shelter, food, entertainment, goods and services. Without it we are unable to participate in this micro society. The bands were linked to the credit card used to book the reservation. If I had booked with a debit card funds could be frozen for up to a month as stated in the Terms of Service. Cash, and the glory of its anonymity, is a no no.

Hold your wrist to the door, gain access to the building or room. Hold your wrist to a locker, gain access to you possessions. Extend your wrist to the cashier, gain access to food, goods and services. You need nothing but submission to function in this community.

An Ontario Science Centre exhibit in Toronto, A Question of Truth, loomed in the back of my head during our stay in this real world exercise.

I was constantly aware of my new found identity and had chosen to wear it chip side out instead of displaying the happy logo of the establishment. The mission statement of the establishment has lurking sinister undertones: Create Family Traditions One Family at a Time.

Consider this a venting, more to come when I digest this a bit more.