A Day at the ParkTwo miles from the park entrance, just after the next to last exit off the Interstate, surveillance begins: license plates—over two hundred and fifty thousand per day.
One hundred and twenty cameras scan the fronts and rears of every vehicle covering that last two miles, many of which will turn off onto Americana Boulevard and head into town.
Why a hundred and twenty? Cars and trucks swerve in and out of line; they tailgate, and even tip bumpers. They vary in height and width. If it rains, the plates are muddy or spotted from motor oil.
Every one of these plates must be tracked—every day.
The cameras shoot the numbers and state of every tag directly into the gut of Nosy, one of two supercomputers under the park's festive surface, whose preliminary task is to match the
