clipart
It had to happen. There were just too many powerful aviation alphabet groups out in the world feeding on a dwindling number of flying enthusiasts and professionals. Something had to give.
AOPA and EAA were the two superpowers who had been staring at each other, headset to headset and sunglasses to sunglasses, for years as they fought and scrapped over the dues dollars, insurance, legal service payments, fly-in ticket fees and fading interest of the owner/pilots they purported to serve.
These two burgeoning aviation world giants were not the only entities scrapping and mauling for their yearly monetary fix from the N-number hatted crowd. NBAA, NAFI, GAMA and the BBGA in England were also spoiling for a fight but lacked the resources of AOPA and EAA.
This power struggle between the "bigs," combined with the power vacuum felt by the lesser alphabet groups, led to multiple alliances, treaties and mutual defense agreements.
GAMA partnered with AOPA and the NBAA, forming a very strong power block. Meanwhile, EAA formed alliances with NAFI, STEP (flying test pilots) and NORML (National Organization for the Reform of Marijuana Laws) based on a strong demand from their ultralight and gyrocopter members.
Once the alliances were formed, the outbreak of hostilities awaited the tiniest spark to set the conflict into active mode.
Months went by as the groups positioned themselves by sending pilots multiple renewal notices even though we had renewed our memberships and paid our dues a few weeks before.
The alphabet groups scrambled to build their war chests by offering life insurance, CFI insurance, maintenance insurance and low-interest credit cards. Sometimes, they even offered us cheap hats with our N numbers on them as an incentive to fund their war-making capacities.
EAA offered purple N-number hats. AOPA offered orange ones.
It seemed like the status quo could continue forever. Advertisers from all alphabet groups continued to sell their iPad navigation computer programs, internet ground schools, engine enhancements and snarky and sexually explicit T-shirts saying, "Remove before flight."
Aviation magazines and websites seemed oblivious to the mounting tension and the coming conflict as they continued to rant and rave about the latest air accident or what chemicals were or were not added to aviation fuel and produced pilot report articles about very expensive aircraft that their readers had no prayer of ever affording.
Then, it happened.
Like most conflicts, this one began with a surprise attack. Lobbyists from AOPA and EAA accidentally met the same Congressional Aviation Subcommittee member at the same time at a Karaoke bar in Georgetown.
Their confusion turned into the worst kind of competition as each lobbyist vied for the legislator's attention. The EAA rep offered the congressman a free hat and a one-on-one conversation with movie star and aviation enthusiast John Travolta. The AOPA agent countered by offering 20 raffle tickets for their yearly airplane giveaway and a firm stare and handshake from actor Harrison Ford.
The Aviation Subcommittee Member was very uncomfortable with the growing animus showed by EAA and AOPA and tried to escape through the back door to the bar just as the Senate Minority Leader took the microphone and began to warble "The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down."
As the congressperson exited the bar, he was hit by a wadded-up wet sectional chart hurled by a disgruntled private pilot. By then, it did not matter what alphabet group the offending pilot belonged to; the Nomex fireproof flying gloves were off, and the war was on.
EAA's famous "Experimental Army" flew to and surrounded Frederick, Maryland, while sending dew rag-wearing ultralight pilots on swashbuckling raids underneath the very oppressive DC airspace that AOPA had been complicit with establishing.
AOPA countered by declaring it would be a "cold day in Oshkosh" when they returned and raised their massive tent at the fly-in. Since almost every day is cold in Oshkosh, this threat went unnoticed.
Pilots yelled at pilots when the orange hats ran into the purple hats at thousands of airport community pancake breakfasts across the fruited plain. At some of these contentious breakfasts, food fights broke out between attendees. Coffee was spilled, and way too much bacon was ruined.
Lawyers from AOPA sent out cease and desist letters and their usual come-ons to sell their legal services to members and random pilots who had unwittingly fallen into their mailing lists.
EAA offered hundreds of weekend workshops around the country, and its brochures and internet ads said they were to be about sheet metal work and how to recover fabric wings. However, they were really centered around recruiting new aero-warriors and equipping them with spit-ball-shooting rivet guns.
The war ended as many wars do when somebody dropped the "big one."
In this case, the "big one" was the loss of almost all of the members of all alphabet groups when they found that they could have a perfectly happy and healthy life of flying without funding and supporting a bunch of lawyers, magazine writers, political operatives and membership salespeople. This running for the exits was tragic because the alphabet groups do a lot of good for the aviation community, and the people working there are excellent and have the best intentions.
Pilots shook off their addiction to daily and sometimes hourly email updates about the latest air crash, congressional outrage, an airport in peril or the most recent speed bump in the world of unleaded avgas.
The alphabet groups could not fight without funding and willing pilot members, so they slunk away. Many people who lost their jobs when the groups folded are looking for aviation work but, for now, sell used cars, bitcoins and extended warranties for household appliances.
On a peaceful and warm morning, these alphabet pilots/veterans dropped their orange and purple hats onto the ramp, threw their membership cards away and flew just for the unorganized fun of it.
