The Gift That Flew Away
It was a user error
I never asked for a drone. I never thought about owning one. If anyone had offered me one, I would ask, “What would I do with it if I had one?”
I was recently cleaning the basement, and there it was on a shelf. The sight of it makes me feel guilty and inadequate. It still intimidates me. It also challenges me to stand up and grab the instruction manual waiting patiently inside the box.
“You went through great pains to put me on this shelf. It’s been years. When are you going to fly me, you lily-livered tech-shy coward?”
Yes, I did go through great pains to retrieve this drone. Its battery has never even been charged. And that’s where the trouble started. No, the trouble started on an innocent Christmas morning.
My husband bought me a whole spread of Christmas presents. He always looks for something special, something with some wow. I unwrapped the box and was underwhelmed.
Drones were a hot commodity back in 2020. There must be some appeal to them, although I didn’t know what might be. My husband noted my polite reaction.
“If you don’t want it, I can return it. No problem.”
“Yeah, maybe. Let me think about it.”
Then I had a wrestling match with myself.
Drones can take cool pictures.
Honestly, how many aerial pictures will I take?
If kids can operate them, so can I.
Kids are able to do all sorts of techy things that I have no clue about.
I can take my time and read the manual.
I hate reading manuals. I’ll never read it.
This is where I should have stopped thinking about it. But I just had to add one last thought.
I have to embrace the here and now. Drones are “in” and it might be fun.
And so I decided to keep the drone.
We put our gifts away and started getting ready for the house full of people who would soon descend upon us. Once the hors d’oeuvres were laid out and I was dressed for the day, I had a few free moments. Instead of pulling out my new crossword puzzle book, or reading the first pages of my new book, I went to the drone. I pulled out the pieces, perused the diagram, and put it together.
I tried it out right there in my office. It flew! It flew into the bookshelf, the wall, the chair. Well, there were plenty of things for it to ricochet off of in this 10'x10' room. I turned the drone off and put it on top of the box. I slid the box under my desk, leaving the drone to charge. I told myself I would go back to it the next day.
A few minutes later the doorbell rang. It was my daughter Tara and her wife Maria. We exchanged our Merry Christmases and the pleasantries of the day. While my husband and the girls were chatting, I was eying my daughter-in-law, techie extraordinaire. Surely she would be able to help me with the drone.
Somehow I had made a quick transition from “I don’t think I want this drone” to “I have to try this drone out right now”. While Tara and her dad were busy talking, I got Maria to the side.
“I have something to show you.” I nudged her along, glancing over my shoulder like I had an illicit business deal to peddle.
“Look what Perry gave me for Christmas! Can you help me fly it?”
“I don’t know. I never flew one.”
“Really? Oh. Well, you can be there for moral support!” I wasn’t going to be deterred from my mission.
The two of us slipped out the back door. I put the drone on the picnic table. Together we studied the controller. I hit was I supposed was “up” and I was right.
My little drone lofted gracefully up above us. I hit something else and it headed toward the back fence. Perfect!
Wait! That’s too far. I hit the opposite toggle. It didn’t come back.
I thrust the controller at Maria. “Here, make it come back.”
Maria calmly hit all the buttons I would have hit. The drone sailed high over the back fence, across the back neighbor’s yard, and beyond. Last I saw, it was making its way over the tallest tree in the vicinity of the intersection of Oak Creek and Woodland. My drone was gone.
Maria asked, “What did it say in the manual about retrieving it? They all have retrieval features.”
“Uh, I don’t know. I didn’t read the manual yet.”
“Okay, there’s probably a feature that will send a signal to your phone until it loses its charge. Do you know how long the charge is?”
“I didn’t pair it to my phone. And I only charged it for a few minutes.”
I was sad about losing my drone, but I had a bigger problem.
“Maria, I can not tell Perry that I lost the drone already. I’ve got to go find it. Will you come with me? We’ll sneak out and hope we’re not missed.”
“Yes, but I have to tell Tara where I’m going.”
“OK, just don’t let Perry hear.” I waited/hid in my office. Maria came in with Tara trailing behind.
Tara told me about the neighborhood Facebook page. I opened my computer, found the page, and posted a lost drone announcement. It may not help, but it couldn’t hurt.
Maria and I drove to the other side of Oak Creek Road and we painstakingly stared up at each tree and scanned front lawns and side yards. We saw a few people out walking their dogs and asked if they’d seen any stray drones in their travels. Nope.
After half an hour, we had to give up and go home.
Why didn’t I wait until tomorrow when I had time to read the stupid manual? I didn’t want a drone anyway. This was a pricey loss. Damn, I wanted to fly that thing.
Tara met us at the door. “I told Dad. He said we’ll worry about it tomorrow.” Thank goodness for tattle tale daughters and a house full of people.
It turned out to be a nice Christmas, except for when I was thinking about my now beloved drone.
First thing in the morning I made Lost Drone signs which I duct-taped to telephone poles all over the neighborhood. Dog walkers who saw me hanging the signs promised to keep their eyes open for it.
One woman said she’d tell her husband and he’d use his drone to search for it. Okay, that’s one reason to have a drone- to search for other people’s lost drones. The next day a man stopped me on my walk. It was the drone guy himself.
“Sorry, but I looked with my drone and didn’t see it. It could be stuck in an evergreen or it could have landed under some lawn furniture.” I thanked him for his efforts and marveled at how nice people can be.
That afternoon a woman commented on my Facebook Post. My drone had landed in her backyard at the base of a tree. She left me her address and said I could pick it up off her front porch whenever I liked.
Post-Christmas miracle! Within minutes I was reunited with my little flying buddy.
As the weather had turned cold, I decided I’d wait to fly it until spring. I’d have plenty of time to study the manual and learn all of its features. I packed it up neatly and brought it down to the basement.
There sits the drone along with my good intentions. There sits the unread manual. Here sit I, thinking about it, and writing about it, but not yet running down to rescue it from obscurity.
What is to be the fate of the drone? Will I finally fly it, or will my children find it among my other belongings after my death? Either way, they are sure to have a good laugh at some point.
What do you think?