I have no business flying a drone. In fact, I have no business handling anything that requires some semblance of skill, dexterity, or finesse.

I’m kind of a disaster that way. So, naturally, I jumped at the opportunity to keep my streak-of-destruction alive when the good folks at Dromida asked if I wanted to test their XL Quadcopter. A day later and I was mauling the packaging, charging up the battery, and ignoring the instructions like the man-baby I am.

Ignoring the instructions was a horrible idea — there’s a little bit of assembly required (totally manageable), some key flight tips, and a secret sequence of events essential to make the propellers go (there’s a “motors start/stop” button clearly marked on the radio controller). Moments later, I was ready for flight.

Once I got the hang of it, this thing was pretty easy to fly. Soon, I had it hovering around the Penthouse parking lot. In retrospect, I should have stopped my test flight there. I should have packed up the Quadcopter, put it away, and written my review like the sellout that I aspire to be. 

Instead, I thought it would be fun to test the Quadcopter’s payload capacity. Spoiler alert: “Payload capacity” is not a measure associated with drones. I know this now.

“Visions of flying penises danced in my head as we spent way too much time monkeying around with the flight harness.”

I pulled a few random things off my desk — the Colt Gear Hot Hole (a “warming” masturbator designed to simulate the male b-hole experience), a Penthouse-branded personal massager, and a Commemorative Edition Head O State dildo shaped to resemble President Barack Obama — grabbed some fishing line, and enlisted the office geek to help me rig (thanks, Lucky). Visions of flying penises danced in my head as we spent way too much time monkeying around with the homemade flight harness.

The first test load was the surprisingly cumbersome and somewhat slimy Hot Hole. I gunned the drone’s engines and watched it struggle to lift the lifelike man-rectum off the ground. Not for lack of effort, but I could not achieve liftoff. Instead, the drone slowly dragged the pleasure-tush across the lot, leaving a PureSkin snail trail in its path. We needed to go lighter. Much lighter.

The next (and sadly final) test was with the personal massager. Surely this would work, as the useless piece of junk — ahem — branded promotional material weighs next to nothing. Well, it probably would have worked if I was smart enough to not pin the throttle. The Quadcopter went from stationary to out of control in a fraction of a second. The propellers whirred, the Quadcopter shot into the air, only to be dragged off balance by the massager, which pulled the drone backwards and straight at my head. I screamed, ducked, and lowered the throttle… the Quadcopter hit the ground and skid under Jerrod Olson’s car. Stupid Jerrod. I don’t even know what a digital content manager does, let alone why the fuck he parked on my airfield. 

In the interest of fairness, the instruction manual clearly states: “TO PREVENT MOTOR DAMAGE ALWAYS BE SURE THE THROTTLE IS OFF WHEN THE BLADES ARE OBSTRUCTED OR CONTROL IS LOST. PUSH THE BUTTON!” Also, in the interest of fairness, that tidbit is super easy to forget when you are overtaken by panic. Thus, my flying sex-toy experiment was tragically cut short by a burnt out engine. Stupid Jerrod.

dromida.com$249.99  (Hot Hole not included)