ORD for Chicago? YYZ for Toronto? The Weirdest Airport Codes Explained

Some airport codes make perfect sense—LAX for Los Angeles, SFO for San Francisco. Others seem like someone randomly grabbed letters from a bag. The apparent randomness has explanations rooted in history, geography, and bureaucratic accidents. Here are the stories behind codes that make travelers scratch their heads.

ORD: Chicago O’Hare

Chicago’s busiest airport has one of the most questioned codes in aviation.

The explanation: ORD comes from “Orchard,” as in Orchard Place Airport—the facility’s original name when it was a military airfield in the 1940s. Douglas Aircraft manufactured planes here during World War II, operating at what was then called Orchard Place/Douglas Field.

The name change: In 1949, the airport was renamed O’Hare Field to honor Edward “Butch” O’Hare, a U.S. Navy aviator and Medal of Honor recipient from Chicago who was killed in action in 1943. The code, already assigned and established in aviation systems, remained ORD.

Why it stuck: Changing airport codes disrupts everything—flight schedules, baggage systems, computer reservations, and decades of traveler familiarity. The cost of switching from ORD to something like CHI (which is used for Chicago’s general designation) would vastly exceed any benefit.

YYZ: Toronto Pearson

Canada’s busiest airport carries a code that seems completely disconnected from its name.

The Y factor: All Canadian airports begin with Y. This convention dates to the radio telegraph era when Y designated Canadian stations. As aviation developed its coding system, the Y prefix became standard for Canadian airports.

Where YZ comes from: The “YZ” was the identifier for a radio range navigation beacon in the area, located near the town of Malton (where the airport was originally sited). The beacon’s code was adopted for the airport, creating YYZ.

Cultural impact: The Canadian rock band Rush named an instrumental track “YYZ” in 1981. The song’s opening riff mimics the Morse code for Y-Y-Z (-.– -.– –..), introducing millions of rock fans to Toronto’s airport identifier.

MCO: Orlando

Orlando’s airport code has no obvious connection to the city name.

Military origins: MCO stands for McCoy, as in McCoy Air Force Base—the Strategic Air Command facility that occupied this site until 1975. The base was named for Colonel Michael N. McCoy, a decorated pilot killed in a 1957 reconnaissance plane crash.

The transition: When the Air Force closed McCoy AFB, the facility was converted to civilian use and renamed Orlando International Airport. The MCO code remained, as it was already embedded in global aviation systems.

Disney confusion: First-time Orlando visitors sometimes expect DIS or ORL—neither of which exists. The Disney connection that defines Orlando tourism postdates the airport code by decades.

MSY: New Orleans

New Orleans Louis Armstrong International carries a code that references neither the city nor the musician.

Stock yards: MSY comes from Moisant Stock Yards—the name of the area where the original New Orleans airport was built in the 1940s. The Moisant family owned the land, which was used as a livestock market before becoming an airfield.

The Moisant aviation connection: John Moisant was himself a famous early aviator who died in a 1910 plane crash near New Orleans. The stock yards and later airport bore his family name.

Multiple renamings: The airport has been called Moisant Field, New Orleans International Airport, and now Louis Armstrong New Orleans International Airport. Through all names, MSY has persisted.

EWR: Newark Liberty

Newark’s code starts with E rather than N, confusing everyone who expects logical letter assignment.

N was taken: By the time Newark Airport needed a code, various “N” combinations had been assigned to other facilities. The obvious NEK or NWK weren’t available.

Creative solution: EWR was constructed by taking the final three letters of “Newark”—a pattern used when initial-letter combinations were exhausted. The E stands for nothing independently; it just happens to be Newark’s second-to-last letter.

Regional competition: New York area airports include JFK, LGA, and EWR—three codes from three different logic systems. JFK is a name abbreviation (John F. Kennedy), LGA is geographic (La Guardia), and EWR is a workaround.

SLC: Salt Lake City

This code actually makes perfect sense—but it required geographic specificity.

The logic: SLC takes S from Salt, L from Lake, and C from City. Unlike LAX or SFO which abbreviate single words, SLC abbreviates a three-word name by taking one letter from each.

Why it works: Salt Lake City’s name is unusual enough that the three initials don’t conflict with other major airports. A city named “Santa Laura Cruz” might have problems claiming SLC.

ORF: Norfolk

Norfolk’s code includes a letter that doesn’t appear in the city name.

Old name reference: The “O” references Ocean View, the original name of the airport that served Norfolk. When three-letter codes became standard, the Ocean View reference produced ORF.

NRF wasn’t available: The logical Norfolk abbreviation was already assigned or too similar to other codes. ORF avoided conflicts.

DCA: Washington Reagan National

Washington’s downtown airport has a code that predates its current name by decades.

District of Columbia: DCA means “District of Columbia Airport”—the original designation for what was then Washington National Airport. The code dates to 1941 when the airport opened.

The Reagan addition: In 1998, the airport was renamed Ronald Reagan Washington National Airport. The DCA code remained unchanged—renaming codes to match name changes would create confusion.

Dulles differentiation: Washington Dulles International uses IAD (for International Airport, Dulles), providing clear distinction from DCA despite both serving the same metropolitan area.

BNA: Nashville

Nashville’s code includes a B that doesn’t appear in the city name.

Airport name: BNA comes from Berry Field, the facility’s original name. The airport was named for Colonel Harry S. Berry, administrator of the Tennessee Works Progress Administration who championed its construction.

The transition: Berry Field became Nashville Metropolitan Airport and later Nashville International Airport. The BNA code survived both renamings.

TPA: Tampa

Tampa’s code is straightforward, but the surrounding Florida airports create interesting comparisons.

Simple logic: TPA takes T-A from Tampa and P from… nowhere specific. Three letters were needed, and TPA worked without conflicts.

Regional variations: Nearby airports follow different patterns—MCO (Orlando) from military history, MIA (Miami) from city initials, JAX (Jacksonville) from city abbreviation plus X, and FLL (Fort Lauderdale) from city initials.

PHX: Phoenix

The X suffix pattern appears in Phoenix, though the city name contains no X.

The X convention: When two-letter codes transitioned to three letters in the 1930s and 1940s, many airports simply added X to their existing two-letter identifiers. Phoenix’s weather station code was PH; adding X created PHX.

Similar pattern: LAX (Los Angeles + X), PDX (Portland + X, though some say the D references the Columbia River), and PHX all follow this convention.

RSW: Fort Myers

Fort Myers’ airport code references a completely different name.

Southwest: RSW stands for Regional Southwest—the airport’s original designation before it was renamed Southwest Florida International Airport. The geographic description, not the city name, provided the code.

Fort Myers confusion: Travelers searching for “Fort Myers airport” might expect FMY or something similar. RSW requires either memorization or looking it up.

CVG: Cincinnati

Cincinnati’s airport is actually in Kentucky, and its code reflects that geography.

The location: Cincinnati/Northern Kentucky International Airport sits in Covington, Kentucky—across the Ohio River from Cincinnati. CVG comes from Covington, not Cincinnati.

Practical impact: Travelers expecting CIN or something Cincinnati-focused must learn CVG. The code accurately represents the airport’s location, even if it seems odd for Cincinnati-bound travelers.

GEG: Spokane

Spokane’s code has no apparent connection to the city.

The namesake: GEG comes from Geiger Field, the airport’s former military designation named for Major Harold Geiger, an Army aviation pioneer who died in a 1927 crash.

Current name: The facility is now Spokane International Airport, but GEG persists from its military era.

Why Codes Don’t Change

The persistence of seemingly nonsensical codes reflects aviation’s conservative approach to identifiers.

System integration: Airport codes appear in flight management systems, baggage handling, computer reservations, government databases, and countless other interconnected systems. Changing a code means updating all of them simultaneously.

Traveler familiarity: Frequent travelers memorize codes. Changing JFK to something more logical (but different) would create confusion for millions of travelers who know the current code.

Historical value: The stories behind unusual codes connect airports to their histories. MCO reminds us of McCoy Air Force Base; ORD remembers Orchard Place. These codes preserve aviation history even when the names they reference have been forgotten.

The three-letter codes stamped on luggage tags and boarding passes carry decades of aviation evolution. Understanding where they came from explains apparent randomness and connects travelers to the history beneath their feet.