JFK, LGA, and EWR: The Great New York Airport Code War
It all started in a dimly lit control tower on a particularly stormy night. The air traffic controllers were minding their business, guiding planes safely to their destinations, when a peculiar noise crackled over the radio. It wasn’t turbulence, nor was it pilot chatter. It was…bickering?
“I am clearly the most important airport in New York,” declared a confident voice over the frequency.
“Excuse me? Who even are you?” another voice shot back.
“It’s me, JFK, the busiest and most sophisticated airport in the state! You know, the one with international prestige and a name that actually means something! Unlike you two… whatever you are.”
“Oh, here we go again,” grumbled LGA. “I swear, if I hear another word about how ‘JFK is so international’ and ‘JFK is the gateway to America,’ I’m going to lose it. Some of us handle the real New Yorkers, not just tourists buying ‘I Love NY’ shirts.”
EWR, the quietest of the three, finally chimed in. “Guys… let’s not fight. We all have our place.”
“You literally aren’t even in New York,” JFK and LGA said in unison.
“It’s called branding!” EWR protested. “I may technically be in New Jersey, but I serve New Yorkers too! You guys don’t have a monopoly on being inconvenient and overcrowded.”
LGA scoffed. “You know, I may be the smallest, but at least I don’t make people feel like they’re embarking on an Arctic expedition just to reach their gate. Have you seen the endless walkways in JFK? People land there and start questioning their life choices halfway through the terminal.”
“Oh please,” JFK fired back. “At least I have a train system. You’re still out here with your rickety buses. Your passengers feel like they’re riding a time machine to the 1970s.”
EWR sighed. “I just want some respect. People act like I’m some random airport that snuck onto the list. I have international flights too, you know! And a fancy new terminal!”
The argument continued for hours, each airport code trying to outdo the others with their superiority. They debated about everything: location, prestige, security lines, lost baggage statistics—nothing was off-limits.
Eventually, the air traffic controllers had had enough. One of them, a seasoned professional named Larry, grabbed the radio mic and said, “Listen up, you three. We get it. JFK, you’re big and international. LGA, you’re close to the city and easy for short flights. EWR, you… well, you exist. But here’s the deal: New Yorkers don’t love any of you. They just tolerate you. Now, can we get back to landing planes?”
There was a long silence. Then, EWR sniffled. “People… tolerate me?”
“Yes, buddy,” Larry reassured him. “They tolerate you. Just like they tolerate traffic, rent prices, and the MTA. You’re part of the fabric of New York in your own frustrating way.”
With that, JFK, LGA, and EWR settled down. The bickering stopped (at least for the night), and the skies over New York City remained somewhat peaceful—until the next flight delay reignited the battle.
