Jordan King Lacroix

About Jordan King Lacroix

Jordan King-Lacroix was born in Montreal, Canada but moved to Sydney, Australia when he was 8 years old. He has achieved a Bachelor of Arts from the University of Sydney and McGill University, Canada, as well as a Masters of Creative Writing from the University of Sydney.

Dear Transport NSW…

Approx Reading Time-10With the announcement of yet more peak hour train cuts, I suspect Transport NSW’s continued uselessness may be deliberate.


Dear Transport NSW,

I see what you’re doing. Your plan came to me as I was stuck in a tunnel for no explained reason. It’s obvious. You’re doing it deliberately.

The mystery delays, the cancellations, the unreliable schedules. You’re making us realise that we don’t really need public transport. It’s genius.

I suspect it’s part of a larger plot to give Sydneysiders what we desire the most: a small town feel. That sense of community Sydney is famous for not having. You’re uniting us. Elbow to elbow, hip to hip, scowl to scowl.

So, your latest announcement of further cuts to peak hour trains and buses makes complete sense. It’s good government.

The reasons you gave us, although superfluous, were good ‘uns. The system doesn’t work due to “weather” and “vandals.” They are small town problems. Yeah, the weather looks like it’ll turn, bugger it. Or those hoolies with their bloody sharp pencils and scribbles, listening to their wibbity-wobbity-flim-flam rubbish. Get a bloody job. (Just not in hospo.) Logically, we need to avoid these barside conversations, so less transport makes more sense. You shouldn’t be on a train that late anyway. Where have you been? Didn’t see you at the local. You know? The Barangaroo. The place for an evening feed and a slap. Too right, youth.

Just by the by, Transport NSW, Sydney had, for better or worse, a public transit system. It wasn’t great and it was fine if you happened to live in the city. Anywhere else, well you should have tried harder in school. You wanted us to better ourselves, but we failed you. Our punishment was the packed shamble that makes up our commute, where personal space is a premium, and only the most undesirable enjoy the greatest of comforts. Along with the faceless mugging of the airport line when we try and blow the proverbial popsicle stand. Our fault.

But that’s all in the past because the Sydney we all know will soon be its own small town. And I can’t wait. The city that never wakes up. Parochial and quaint, a place where blow ins will be met with warm charm hiding dark suspicion.

You in from the big city are ya?

If I’ve stumbled upon your grand plan – and I feel I have – my advice to you, cobber, is to do it right. One post office. One supermarket. Shutter everything else. What else you need?

One ideal day it’ll be “Sydney. A place where everyone knows your name and no-one moves”. Feel free to pop that on the sign.

Transport NSW, your plan is beautiful. How grand it’ll be. No more trains. No more buses. No more commuters. Everyone will be their own person again. Spinnin’ yarns with the ‘town characters’, where everyone helps everyone, you know for the greater good. Their meth problems, are our meth problems.

So, my fellow commuters, this morning know that you’ll soon be extinct. But your arm around whoever is reading this over your shoulder, and enjoy it while you can.

Thanks again,

Jordan. (My friends call me J-Bomb)

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