People drop things on the Internet and run all the time. So we have to ask. In this edition, Hausfrau magazine editor Stephen Kosloff tells us more about what it’s like to have a drone smack into your head and cut you up while you’re trying to play some foosball at a Gizmodo party.
— Stephen Kosloff (@stephenkosloff) May 22, 2014
Stephen! So what happened here?
I was celebrating closing an ad deal for my magazine, and by “celebrating,” I mean drinking alone, as usual. While walking from Bar A to Bar B, I stumbled on a Gizmodo party on Mulberry Street. I flashed my business card, said “Media,” and was admitted.
I was like, “Great, now I can get drunk before I continue drinking.”
This was a “House of the Future” party—a sexy sponsorship tie-in of some sort. It was a large auditorium with a number of faux “rooms” all kitted out with really excellent gear: TVs, kayaks, sofas, and one remote-controlled drone.
I tried on various protective headgear, helmets and such. Took some selfies (as one does).
Next, a few people gathered around the drone and fired it up! The drone shot up over the fake walls, and was lost to sight. It crashed somewhere in the distance. I thought to myself, “That could have injured someone,” but I didn’t speak up, a decision I attribute to my low self-esteem.
A couple of minutes later, a few folks had the drone on a table, and they fired it up again. It veered with the greatest violence into a nearby plant, shredded the shit out of its leaves, then crashed into a wall.
I was like, “Whatever,” and started playing foosball with a nice guy. Next thing I know, WHAM!!!!!!! Right in my fucking head. The drone.
It was mildly upsetting; not very painful, but a big shock. It knocked me pretty good. I knew right away that it was the drone because I’d seen it “acting out” earlier.
What happened next? Did you and everyone else there freak out? And, most importantly: Are you OK?
I went straight to the bathroom, using my Obama T-shirt to stanch the bleeding. I was concerned for a minute that I would need stitches, but I didn’t. The whole time, the editor of Gizmodo was there helping me out. He was mortified, and very helpful. I feel bad for him. He seemed to be freaked out.
The Gizmodo and event staff were very helpful and apologetic. They got me some band-aids and stuff to clean the cuts with. It got my right ear and two spots on my forehead.
After the party, I went to Bar B in my bloody t-shirt and continued getting drunk.
Lesson learned (if any)?
If you are attending a party that features both drones and helmets, and you put a helmet on to take a selfie, do not take the helmet off until you leave the party.
Just one more thing.
Drones make bad party toys.
Matthew J.X. Malady is a writer and editor in New York.