So Jeff Bezos wants Amazon to start delivering packages by drone.
Never mind that the very meaning of the word “drone” is an insect that does no work other than laying around the hive eating honey, waiting for the chance to mate, and then dying… or else the constant annoying hum of noise made by such deadbeats.
Just kidding. I know that Mr. Bezos really means the instruments that deal death from the sky in Yemen, Pakistan, and similar parts of the world. And I am totally willing to die – but only if LL Bean has finally gotten my order right, for long-sleeve turtlenecks that don’t shrink when they’re washed. If it’s another shrinker, no dice.
I am a little worried for my neighborhood, though. For example, what happens when those gizmos come in for a landing?
Bezos seems to envision them as winging their way toward us from some kind of rural transfer station, zooming over field and stream, to land their precious cargoes on our front porch.
But I have a few questions. For one thing, if I lived out in the country and saw something heading for my front porch, I’d run out and smack it with a broom. (Assuming I beat the dogs to it, because of course I’d have dogs in such a scenario.)
How can I be sure it won’t continue on through the front window? How precise are Amazon’s measurements, anyway? Clearly, we’d better not order anything fragile! (Alas, there goes my plan for ordering the water goblets to match my wineglasses, for our 25th wedding anniversary.)
Besides, not everyone has a front porch. I guess it could drop things down the chimney – like Santa, or the Hogwarts owls bringing mail to Harry Potter. (Maybe Bezos read too much Harry Potter. Did he leap up, in the middle of Book 3, and shriek, “Eureka! Drones! They’re just like owls, without the droppings!”)
But not everybody has a chimney, either. So then what’s the plan? Don’t tell me: “We’ll make a chimney.” More like a skylight, I’ll bet.
More importantly, how does Mr. Bezos propose to deal with folks in the city? Who live in apartments? Oh sure, I suppose some of them will have balconies. But what about the rest? Is he planning for one of these things to get itself buzzed into a building – “Drone strike delivery, for Miss Epstein” – push the buttons for an elevator, and ride up to the 3rd floor? At which point – assuming the elevator doors open – it exits and zooms down the hall, looking for Apartment 3-G?
And then what? Will it require a signature before it drops its cargo and zooms back to home base? And will it catch another elevator, or just break a window and fly away, back to Papa?
Even if Mr. Bezos can accomplish that, I have a list of things I’d rather he tackled first:
Of course, paper-boys and girls will be obsolete. I’m assuming that drones will deliver Bezos’ newly-purchased newspaper, the Washington Post – but I warn him, that Sunday paper probably weighs more than 5 pounds.
Pretty soon the only people ringing your bell will be Jehovah’s Witnesses. And we’ll need drones to go around signing people up for NYPIRG, door-to-door.
But my first choice is replacing the delivery guys for Chinese food and pizza. Never again would I have to figure the tip while someone’s standing there, watching me fumbling through my wallet. No more silent eyes judging as I pass over the twenties and then the ten, trying to count backwards from $40. (“The cheapskate, she’s passing right by the ten dollar bill – will she stop at a five? Don’t tell me she’s looking for exact change?”) Just unhook your bag of dinner and watch the drone shrink to a speck in the sky as it flies away.
But there’s one part of this I don’t understand. What are we supposed to do when the jacket the drone has brought us, or the extension cord, or the pair of shoes, is the wrong size? Do we pack it back up, whistle, and throw it in the air, hoping the drone will come swooping back, like a falcon?
Or do we have to use the Post Office and UPS, like everybody who doesn’t have a house and front porch in the country? I hope they’re still there for us, when we need them.
I fear it’s back to the drawing board for Mr. Bezos and his drones.
