When I heard that my old friend Felicia Ballos was living on a converted school bus with her husband and son, I went to her website, where she’d written: “We have given up the jobs that hinder us from giving to the world in the ways we would like ... Instead we have entered a culture of trading, of bartering, of mutual help among like minds and souls.”
I sent her a message and asked her if I could come for a visit. When I arrived at Ray’s parents’ house in upstate New York, where their bus was parked, Felicia had been up since 6 a.m., taking care of their son, Bowie, who’s not quite two years old. She introduced me to her husband, Ray Roy. He had just learned how to weld, and I could see how excited he was to say, “If you’ll excuse me, I have some welding to get back to.”
Felicia met Ray when he was touring with a performance art group, driving around in a converted bus that ran on vegetable oil. Within seven weeks Felicia and Ray were living together in an apartment in the East Village. Ray became the co-owner of a different vegetable oil bus, and when he and Felicia were served an eviction notice (they’d been subletting illegally), they moved into the bus. They were like a couple of kids setting up camp in a backyard tent. “The sparseness of the bus and its flexibility was very seductive,” Felicia says. “We had what we needed and realized that we didn’t need much.” They believe that Bowie was conceived that week.
After 10 days they were allowed back into their apartment, but something had changed. They wanted to keep moving. Ray sold his share of the bus, and they bought their own. The first incarnation of their very own bus had no running water. They stored their food on two teeny carts and fashioned a closet out of bamboo. They kept the perishable food in a cooler. Ice was one of their biggest expenses.
Little by little they made improvements. They now have a working kitchen, running water, electricity generated by rechargable batteries, and a composting toilet. It’s located next to the bed, on the back of the bus. There’s a curtain for when guests are on board.
“Attachment to objects has become almost obsolete,” says Felicia. Everything that makes the cut must serve a purpose: tools, essential clothing, a box of sewing and craft materials, toys as long as they aid in development in some way, computer and video equipment. There’s a kitchen nook, made out of a church pew cut in half. They both agree that having the stove is what makes it feel most like a home. It’s just like the one that Ray’s parents have, and he loves that there’s a clock on it, a small domestic detail that roots them in time and space.
At the time of my visit, Ray was working as an electrician on movie sets, but money was tight. “There is always the challenge of trying to find the positive when surrounded by and living in poverty, and finding the grounding that this entire adventure demands from us,” says Felicia, “because going bananas is the other option.” No matter how hard I pressed them on whether they missed having hot showers and separate rooms and a drawer full of Scotch tape and thumbtacks, they insisted that they couldn’t imagine going back to the way they were living before.
Say hello to my little friend...literally.
TikTok shocked by 15-year-old unhinged viral clip of kids performing Scarface in school play
Think about the most outrageous film that could be adapted to the stage. Now, imagine the cast of that theatrical production is entirely children, ranging in age from 7 to 10. Now, film it and let the world react.
That’s what director Marc Klasfeld had in mind when he held auditions with professional child actors for a shocking video, meant to look like an elementary school production of the cult film-favorite Scarface. In a now 15-year-old interview with Entertainment Weekly, when asked why he thought this was a good idea, Klasfeld admits, "I thought this would be a nice fit into the kind of YouTube arena of viral videos. And I was right."
The result? Kids yelling “mother-fudger,” piles of popcorn meant to look like cocaine, and outrageous, lengthy scenes of children pointing Super Soakers at one another.
Marc, mostly known as an accomplished commercial and music video director, later adds, "I enjoy making provocative art. I like stirring debate and causing conversation. You're going to get two sides of the coin no matter what you do. People are going to love and hate everything. People loved and hated Avatar. People loved and hated the Jennifer Aniston movie. And people love and hate this. I guess that's a part of having something that's successful out there. There’s got to be certain people that hate it for people to love it."
Once they got their perfect cast, it didn’t take long to put together. He shares, "It was a one-take, so it was pretty much just choosing the right take. About a month altogether."
People sure did react, as it acquired millions of views and comments from all over the Internet. Some were horrified, some were outraged, and many thought it was the funniest thing they'd ever seen. But Marc emphasizes that the kids in the video were not scandalized. "They’ve heard the f-word. They’ve seen more violence in their everyday lives for as long as they can remember. So for this, they’ve seen worse things than this all the time. So this wasn’t that big of a deal for them."
Enter TikTok. The clip (which just popped up again recently on Facebook) was reposted a few years back, and, once again, the comments continue to run the gamut from indignation to full praise. One TikTok user exclaimed, "Bro, I can’t even remember my grocery list, how the fudge did these kids memorize this whole scene lol?"
Others expressed confusion: "I'm not sure whether to be angry or amazed." Some chose anger: "Just imagine, you know these kids watched the movie to get the characters right. And the parents cheering? Yeah, yeah."
Many commenters believed it was a real school play and commended the production for "keepin' it real": "That school keeps it real. Nowadays, kids know so much about guns and drugs, might as well teach them that bad choices don’t end well."
Yet another enjoyed it but was concerned that the parents of the children would not. "Love the tray full of popcorn. But my God, I would hate to see the hell these parents probably raised."
For the most part, the reviews were glowing. Many complimented the acting, and one claimed they definitely would have "preferred this play over their own school production of Macbeth."
And perhaps the biggest compliment? "Al Pacino will be proud."