I have never touched a gyroscope. I have, however, been strapped inside the center of a gigantic gyroscope. The object, modeled after the original small device, let me spin in any direction of the third dimension. The base remained steady and I whirled and twirled in the middle. Nauseous, I dismounted the machine and saw the long wooden floor boards detach from their rooting and rise to strike me on the head. Out.
I awake eight seconds later, the little white poodle sniffs me, the cameraman smiles, holds thumbs up. I did a good job. Independent movies are so weird.