Blow

That's a nice boy.

Go get him, Dulli.

Get in.

- We good? - Oh, yeah.

Are we good? Yeah, we're good. We're beautiful.

We're perfect.

This is Grade A, 100-percent pure Colombian cocaine, ladies and gentlemen.

Disco shit.

Pure as the driven snow.

My name is George Jung...

...federal inmate number 19225004.

I was born in New England.

Massachusetts, actually, in a town called Weymouth.

That's me. And that's my best friend, Tuna.

My dad ran a plumbing and heating company.

He had three trucks, 10 employees and did big jobs.

- Hey. He was my hero.

- Did you do it? - Yeah, I didn't fall once.

Attaboy. See you tonight. - Can I please come to work with you?

Hey, come on, Fred. Let's go, huh? Say goodbye to the kid.

Clam it, Bill.

I'll talk to my boy as long as I want to. You got a problem with that?

You really wanna come?

Oh, what the heck? All right.

- All right, get your boots. Thanks, Dad. Thanks.

Bill, what's your problem?

Guess who's on cleanup today. And buying lunch.

Money! M-O-N-E-Y.

Dad was a hard worker, but didn't make enough to keep Mom happy.

Why do you think I married you?

She'd thought she'd married above her class.

And he'd promised her the moon but didn't deliver.

- How we will live? The truth was...

...business got slow and we were broke.

Don't you touch me! Look at your hands. You're disgusting.

Please, not in front of the boy. The boy. What about me, Fred?

Mom, wait, where are you going? - Go home, George!

Mom, where are you going?

No matter how many times my mother would leave...

...no matter how many times she embarrassed him...

Mom!

...he always took her back.

He loved her.

God, he loved her.

Ermine.

Come here.

- Are you okay? Yeah.

You all right? Yeah.

Hi, George.

I'm home.

Come on, give me a hug.

Come on, Georgie.

Come to Mommy.

George.

Come give your mother a hug.

For 10 years...

...my father worked his ass off 14 hours a day, seven days a week.

He didn't care, as long as we were happy.

Okay, well, what do I have to do?

But in the end, he didn't make enough...

...slowly but surely lost everything.

We were bankrupt.

Let's get some ice cream.

No, Dad, I don't care about ice cream right now.

What are we gonna do?

It'll be all right, George.

It'll work out. It always does.

I'm gonna find another job.

Look, George, this is the way it goes.

Sometimes you're flush and sometimes you're bust.

And when you're up, it's never as good as it seems.

And when you're down, you never think you're gonna be up again.

But life goes on. Remember that.

Money isn't real, George.

It doesn't matter. It only seems like it does.

Yeah, tell that to Mom.

Yeah. That's gonna be a tricky one.

- Hey, Dad. - What?

Are we gonna be poor? Because I don't ever wanna be poor.

Then you won't.

I decided right then and there I wasn't gonna live like that.

I needed to get as far away as possible.

I moved to California in the summer of 1968 with the Tuna.

We had $300 and a black TR3.

Sure was nothing like this back home. It was paradise.

We got a small one-bedroom apartment right on the beach.

It wasn't much, but it had its perks.

George.

George?

You need some help?

California was like nothing I'd ever seen before.

Hey, where's the beer?

People were liberated, independent, full of new ideas.

Hi, George, Tuna.

They used words like "right on," "groovy," "solid."

The women were beautiful.

And they all seemed to share the same occupation.

- I'm a stewardess. - I'm a stewardess.

Yeah.

On the airplane.

And everyone was getting stoned.

Hi. - Hello. Hi. Hello.

Hey, Tuna.

Hi.

Oh, my God.

I figured it out.

Figured out what?

You know how we were wondering what we were gonna do for money...

...being as we don't wanna get jobs?

Yeah. - Check this out.

Oregano?

- Tuna, this is crap. Look, we're selling it.

We'll make up three-finger lids and sell them on the beach.

If we move that, we got, like... Like, a hundred bucks.

And if we don't, well, we can smoke it.

You got ripped off, pal.

It's not a bad idea, man. I got the baggies and everything.

Look, if you really wanna score some dope, I got the guy.

The guy was Derek Foreal, a Manhattan Beach legend.

He owned three restaurants, two nightclubs, and chain of Laundromats.

But more importantly, he owned the first male hair salon in all of southern California.

Barbie.

- Hey. - Mwah.

Maria.

Mwah, mwah.

Hey.

Hey, Sandy.

Ah, so this is the new man, huh? He's cute.

George.

Tuna.

Hello, Tuna.

Enchanté, George.

Barbie, he is yummy.

He looks just like a Ken doll.

Huh! Ken and Barbie. Oh, my God, it is so perfect.

Girls, give me about five minutes. I wanna talk alone to the boys.

Have fun. - Gentlemen?

All right, everybody, shoo. Come on.

Chop, chop. Give us a few minutes. Chop, chop, chop.

Go blond, Ron.

Very nice, Heather.

Now what can I do for you, guys?

We'd like to buy some pot.

I know what you want.

- But first, are you cops? No.

If you are, you have to tell me. If not, it's entrapment.

We're not cops. We're from Massachusetts.

Does he look like a cop?

Actually, no.

You know, it's a good thing you're friends of Barbie's.

Because if you weren't...

...I would never talk to you.

What the fuck is that?

It's your pot.

Wow.

That's more than we had in mind.

I don't nickel-and-dime. You want it or not?

We'll take it.

Tuna and I became the kings of Manhattan Beach.

If you bought grass, you bought it from us.

The bills were paid and I was making way more money than I could at a real job.

I built a reputation for myself.

People even started calling me "Boston George."

It was perfect.

This is it for me.

What is it?

Everything.

You, California, the beach.

This spot right here.

I just finally feel like I belong somewhere, you know?

I feel right.

You're happy.

Yeah, I am.

You?

Um, mm-hm.

Good.

Look what the cat dragged in.

Holy shit, Dulli.

George. - Hey.

Man. - What the fuck are you doing out here?

Man, I'll tell you. I was walking down the beach.

I was minding my business, right? Who do I see? This fucking guy.

- I didn't know you were in California. - What are you doing out here?

On vacation, man.

I'm on my way back to school.

Oh. Well, this calls for a joint. You wanna do the honors?

No, man.

- I'm too fucked up. - That's nice weed, huh?

Fuck, yeah.

I've never seen anything like this. I'm fucking wasted.

Right on.

Man.

I'm fucking stoned.

I'm fucking really stoned.

I'm fucking stoned, man. I'm really...

Stoned?

- Yeah, ha, ha. - Yeah.

Man, I wish there was stuff like this back at home.

Yeah?

Fuck, yeah. You know how much money you can make with this stuff back east?