A Decade of Lessons in the Drone Industry

When it comes to drones, I still feel a sense of wonder every time I take the controls. It brings out the kid in me. But after more than a decade working with this transformative technology, I’ve witnessed an industry evolve from novelty to necessity—and not without growing pains.

When I first entered the drone space, drones weren’t even legally considered aircraft. That changed dramatically in 2014 after a now-infamous flight over the University of Virginia. It was a turning point. Suddenly, drones were subject to the same expectations and scrutiny as traditional aviation, and the FAA began formalizing how drones could be integrated safely into the National Airspace System.

In the early days, opportunities were everywhere. I partnered with a local Atlanta firm and took on everything from aerial construction inspections to filming for television and movies. The possibilities felt limitless.

Then came 2016, and with it, the FAA’s Part 107 certification. Remote pilots now needed a commercial license to operate for compensation. Initially, this increased demand for professionals like me. But soon, the market flooded with new pilots—many of whom lacked a full understanding of the rules or the risks.

Unfortunately, a “fly first, ask later” culture took hold. Online platforms were filled with videos of illegal flights: operations well above altitude limits, beyond visual line of sight, and over people. Some were even proudly posted to gain followers. Meanwhile, misconceptions ran rampant. Pilots believed giving away footage was a loophole around compensation. Others flew for church events or charitable causes without realizing they were violating FAA regulations.

This rise in unsafe and noncompliant behavior was troubling. The normalization of deviation—doing something unsafe once, getting away with it, and then making it a habit—became widespread. Think of it like speeding: if you’ve never been pulled over, you may feel no urgency to change.

Then came COVID-19. The industry came to a halt. For me, it became a time of reflection and reinvention. I focused on building educational content, but real-world assignments were few and far between. Ironically, as drone technology improved dramatically, opportunities to fly dwindled.

As we emerged from the pandemic, interest in drones surged again. Unfortunately, the flood of new entrants outpaced demand, pushing prices down and compromising quality. “Cheaper, faster, better” turned into “cheaper, faster, and unqualified.” Many operators cut corners to stay competitive—often at the expense of safety and compliance.

Another challenge: the romanticized idea of drone work. I’ve lost count of how many people tell me they want to fly golf courses or inspect cell towers. But those niches are saturated and often managed by companies with established workflows and trained contractors. Flying drones professionally is rewarding, but it’s rarely glamorous.

In truth, some of my toughest assignments have tested every skill I’ve developed. I’ve flown remote swamps, rugged mountain ranges, and dense urban corridors. I’ve faced wildlife—including bears, snakes, coyotes, and territorial birds—and I’ve battled unpredictable weather and tight airspace restrictions. These missions are mentally and physically demanding.

What I’ve learned is this: passing the Part 107 test is just the beginning. Real-world success depends on experience, preparation, and the ability to adapt under pressure. Drones are powerful tools—but they don’t fly themselves through complex airspace or mission-critical environments.

As regulations continue to evolve, enforcement will eventually catch up. My advice to any new or aspiring pilot: fly legally, fly safely, and never stop learning.  Your future in this industry depends on it.