28 April 2025

By Malik Norman

When I first set foot in flight school, my mind was set on one thing: becoming a commercial pilot. Like many others who dream of flying for a living, I was chasing altitude, runway lights, and that unmistakable rumble of a turboprop firing to life. I wanted to wear the stripes, command an aircraft, and look out at the horizon from 30,000 feet. Drones? At that point, they weren’t even on my radar—no pun intended.

My journey into aviation began like most student pilots: with a deep passion for flight and a desire to master the skies. I enrolled in flight school full of excitement and maybe a little nervousness. The syllabus was intense, filled with aerodynamics, airspace classes, FAA regulations, and endless hours of ground school. Every day was a new lesson, every night a study session. I was completely immersed in the world of manned aviation.

The camaraderie at school was also something special—being surrounded by other aspiring pilots created a strong sense of purpose and motivation. We pushed each other to stay sharp, and although the curriculum was tough, there was something truly fulfilling about being part of a community united by the same dream.

Then came an unexpected turn.

One day, during course selection for electives, I noticed an option to take a Part 107 drone pilot certification course. It wasn’t something I had planned on, but what caught my attention was the incentive—if I completed the course, I’d get a free drone. That alone piqued my interest. At the time, the idea of flying a drone sounded like a fun side hobby, nothing more than a cool toy I could mess around with during downtime. It definitely didn’t seem like anything I’d pursue seriously.

So I signed up, half-curious and half-motivated by the prospect of scoring a free DJI drone.

To my surprise, the drone ground school wasn’t all that different from what I was already studying. In fact, there was a remarkable overlap between manned and unmanned flight training. Concepts like airspace classifications, weather patterns, METARs and TAFs, sectional charts, radio communications, and FAA regulations were all part of the Part 107 curriculum too. What I thought would be a light, easygoing elective ended up being a full-fledged educational experience—and one that was far more demanding than I expected.

But here’s where things started to shift.

The more I learned about drone operations, the more I realized how wrong I had been. Drones weren’t just high-tech toys you flew around the backyard. The level of precision, situational awareness, and knowledge required to legally and safely operate one in national airspace was far greater than I had ever imagined. The FAA wasn’t handing out licenses for weekend hobbyists—this was serious aviation.

I found myself starting to respect drone pilots in a way I hadn’t before. It wasn’t about just pushing a joystick and watching a screen—it was about mission planning, risk assessment, understanding the weather, respecting privacy laws, and navigating real-world airspace. I began to see drone aviation not as a side branch of aviation, but as a specialized skill set with its own challenges and rewards.

Going through the rigors of Part 107 ground school gave me a whole new appreciation for what drone pilots do. I gained a better understanding of how drones are used in industries like cinematography, search and rescue, agriculture, infrastructure inspection, and more. I saw how UAVs could capture perspectives no human could reach, and how much discipline it took to fly them professionally.

When I finally passed the Part 107 exam, that certificate meant something very different to me than it did when I first signed up. It wasn’t about a free drone anymore. It was about adding another set of wings to my aviation journey—just a different kind than I originally envisioned.

Soon after, I received my DJI Mini 3 Pro. At first, I flew just to practice, experimenting with different maneuvers, learning the controls, studying how the drone responded to weather, wind, and terrain. The more I flew, the more confident I became. That confidence turned into creativity. I started taking shots, exploring camera settings, and trying out different angles and perspectives that I never imagined I could achieve. The footage I was capturing wasn’t just “good for a drone,” it was good—period.

It’s incredible how something that started as an afterthought quickly became a central part of my life. The more I flew, the more I realized this wasn’t just another tool—it was an extension of myself as a pilot and as a creator. Drones opened up a new kind of freedom. Unlike traditional aircraft, which require airports and long flight plans, drones could lift off almost anywhere. I could be in the middle of a forest, on a construction site, or at the edge of the ocean, and still be airborne in minutes.

Eventually, flying drones evolved from a side interest to a professional pursuit.

Now, I fly commercially using my Mavic 2 Pro, and it has become an integral part of my career. I’ve also logged significant hours on the DJI Mini 3 Pro and the Matrice series, which opened up even more possibilities in terms of payloads and applications. Each drone has its own strengths—whether it’s the lightweight flexibility of the Mini 3 Pro, the cinematic precision of the Mavic 2 Pro, or the industrial power of the Matrice.

Every project I take on is a new challenge. Whether I’m shooting real estate footage, mapping terrain, documenting a construction site, or capturing a sunset over a coastline, I’m always looking to push myself creatively and technically. I never stop learning—there’s always a new maneuver, a new camera technique, a new airspace regulation to adapt to. And I welcome all of it.

One of the most rewarding parts of being a drone pilot is seeing how my work helps others. Whether it’s delivering stunning aerial footage for a business, assisting with site surveys that save hours of labor, or even just giving someone a new perspective of a familiar place, there’s a satisfaction that comes from creating value through flight.

Sometimes, I think back to when I first saw the Part 107 elective on that course list and laughed at how casually I brushed it off. I never imagined that drones would play such a major role in my professional life. But I’m glad they did. They’ve allowed me to merge my passion for flight with a growing fascination for visual storytelling and remote aviation technology.

What I love most about being a drone pilot is the freedom it offers—both creatively and professionally. Drones have a way of showing the world from a perspective that people rarely get to see. When I’m in the air, framing the perfect shot or flying over an area I’ve never explored before, there’s a kind of thrill that’s hard to describe. It’s like painting with motion, using light and elevation instead of brushes and canvas.

At the same time, I never forget the responsibility that comes with the license. Flying drones—especially commercially—isn’t just about cool footage or flying for fun. It’s about safety, awareness, and respect for the airspace and the people around you. That’s something I carry with me every time I lift off.

My background in manned aviation gave me a solid foundation, but it’s my experience as a drone pilot that’s helped me grow in ways I didn’t expect. I’ve learned to appreciate not just the technology behind drones, but the discipline and professionalism required to fly them. And perhaps more importantly, I’ve learned never to underestimate an opportunity—even one that starts out with just a free drone.

Today, I consider myself lucky to be a part of the ever-evolving drone industry. I’m proud of the work I do, the skills I’ve developed, and the journey that brought me here. And while I still love the idea of flying commercial jets one day, I can honestly say that drones have earned their own place in my heart—and in my future.

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