Drake apologized to the Janices of Miami with thousands of dollars of cold, hard cash

No matter who you are or what you were doing on Sunday, June 28, you didn’t have as good a day as Janice.

She deserved it, too. She’s had to spend the past month hearing “Janice STFU” every hour on the hour. (Thanks, Drake). The down-tempo hit that interpolates its hook from Lykke Li’s 2011 hipster anthem “I Follow Rivers” debuted at No. 1 on the Billboard Hot 100 in late May. His 14th chart topper surpassed Drake’s tie with Michael Jackson and made him the all-time record holder for the most No. 1 hits by a male solo artist.

His win came at the expense of Janices worldwide, so Drake decided to make things right in a very “Drake” way: He hosted Janice apology parties in Miami, Houston, Los Angeles, Toronto and New York City, with anyone named Janice asked to RSVP and bring a valid government ID to prove their Janiceness and enjoy three hours of free food, drinks and music.

I’m not a Janice, but I know a Janice, and I was delighted to be a Janice +1 for the fete at Forte Dei Marmi in South Beach. I knew it would be a once-in-a-lifetime event — when else will you be in a room with 30-plus Janices of all ages, races and backgrounds? — but nothing could have prepared me for the unbridled joy of seeing Janice after Janice win an envelope stuffed with thousands of dollars.

My Janice, Janice Dunsmore, is a 64-year-old woman set to retire this week after 30 years as a dialysis case manager. She heard about the Janice party on Good Morning America, and when her daughter texted me saying Janice wanted to go, I immediately volunteered to tag along.

I was one-and-a-half Bloody Marys deep into a JRPG marathon on my couch and did not fully understand what I was signing up for. The next morning, I woke up to a hangover and a screenshot from Janice showing she’d been given a +1 and to be ready by noon.

Janice Dunsmore is certainly not a woman I’d ever tell to “STFU,” so I chugged some electrolytes, took a cold shower, and got my act together. I’m so glad I did.

“Hi, Janice!” I yelled at the line of women gathered at the restaurant’s door. “Hi, Janice!” they all yelled back, giddy with anticipation. It was a surreal experience from the get-go — just a bunch of Janices introducing each other and their not-Janices.

“Are you Janice?” “Yes, I’m Janice.” “Oh, I’m not Janice. She’s Janice.” “Janice!”

The Janice ahead of us in line, Janice Bessent, came with her daughter Katelyn.

“I work in Hollywood,” Bessent told me, “and I get to hear this song three times a day every day, so it really is an apology.”

“I tell her she has to wonder if they’re playing it just because they like it or because they don’t like her,” her daughter joked.

One of those young men she works with texted her about the party, and we’re sure he was jealous this morning when she walked in bragging about how she won a raffle for an envelope packed with $2,500. Hey Janice, STFU!

Every Janice was handed a raffle ticket at the door, but we didn’t know what they were for until about 30 minutes later. My Janice and I grabbed a spot at the head of one of three long tables set up inside the restaurant and eyed the multi-course, family-style menu. I started sweating when I read “$120 per person” at the top, but Janice assured me, “If we’re supposed to pay for this, we’re going to jail.”

I asked a waiter when he came for my drink order. “No, no one is paying today,” he laughed. But hey, in this economy? You have to double-check.

The young Janice to my right (who declined to give her last name or speak on record) came with her friend and got to chatting up my Janice over espresso martinis and fresh focaccia. After spinning a few Drake hits, DJ Just Dimy grabbed the mic and welcomed all the Janices to the party.

“Happy Janice to everybody,” he said. “I guess we’re calling it Janice Day today. Sorry for the past month, from Drake. We put your name through the wringer, but today we’re appreciating our Janices.”

He soon read off the first winning raffle ticket, and after a minute or two, the Janice to my right squealed in recognition. A woman walked up to our table and handed her an envelope. We all screamed when she opened it and pulled out a fat wad of cash.

“I have to FaceTime my uncle!” she said as she was immediately swarmed by onlookers and the event’s professional camera team.

“Oh, make it so,” my Janice said to me between sips of margarita. “At least $40 to cover my parking — and some for gas.”

A minute later, the winning Janice demurely slid a hand toward my Janice. My Janice wouldn’t stop talking, so I hit her with the “Janice STFU” until she realized she was being given $100. My Janice tried to protest, then graciously accepted the “little retirement gift.” That’s Janices helping Janices, right there.

The mood of the day was a constant upswing. With each passing cocktail, each delicious entree and each winning raffle ticket, the Janices (and their +1s) turned up big time. We noshed on meatballs and calamari while dancing to Drake’s “Girls Want Girls.” I wandered around the room to meet the various Janices.

Janice Spanns-Givens, a 68-year-old retired college administrator at Florida International University, came with her daughter Jasmine.

“My son, who is 28 — his first concert that I took him to was a Drake concert in 2013,” Spanns-Givens told me. “I actually have the song ‘Janet STFU’ on my playlist.”

Janice Arroyo, a 26-year-old real estate agent from Orlando, took the Brightline down after receiving an invitation via Instagram DM that Friday.

“I thought it was fake,” she said. “I still responded anyway, but then when I got the email [confirmation] that’s when I was like, ‘Aw nah, this shit’s got to be real.’”

She wasn’t the only one who made the trip. Janice Candelario, a 54-year-old middle school ELA teacher from Tampa, got a text from her son about the party in the middle of the week but didn’t confirm her RSVP until Saturday. When she got the confirmation, she immediately booked a hotel, packed her bags and drove to Miami in the middle of the night. Her trip was paid for by Drake, because she won an envelope with $5,000.

“When his latest album came out, I told my students, ‘I have to tell you something personal. Me and Drake have beef, and he wrote a song about it,’ and see? I told you we had beef!” she laughed. “I was happy even before the money, between this passionfruit margarita and just the vibe. This is really wonderful.”

The money raffle was getting crazy. Each time a Janice won an envelope, we’d gather around and count out loud each dollar that she fanned. The waiters and bartenders were getting into it, joining the Janices dancing as we all chanted “Go, Janice! Go, Janice!” Janices started taking shots in large Janice huddles, inviting the DJ to take shots, too.

“I’m not a Janice,” he said, “but I wish my name was Janice today.”

“It’s cool that the name Janice is getting traction, because it’s typically associated with people born around the ‘50s and ‘60s, so it’s going to hopefully become a more popular name,” said Janice Lobo, an occupational therapy student who turns 24 today. Her envelope was full of so many hundreds, she gave up on counting. Not a bad early birthday present. (Thanks again, Drake.)

“It’s going to pay for my student loans,” she beamed.

By 4 p.m., as the event began to wind down, Janice was living her best life. All the Janices were taking selfies, singing along to Drake songs, digging spoons into massive towers of pistachio ice cream, waving their money in the air. I’ve never seen so many happy Janice tears, or so many women who otherwise might’ve never have met, hugging each other like family.

“I feel like nobody wanted to be a Janice,” Arroyo exclaimed to me proudly. “They used to ask me, ‘Oh, you a baddie. What’s your name? Janice? That old-lady-ass name?’ Now look! Now everybody in America wanna be named Janice.”

As the exceptionally kind staff cleaned our plates and turned the restaurant over for public dinner service, it never once ushered Janice out prematurely or gave Janice the impression she should hurry along her way. This was all about Janice, after all. Janice can do whatever she wants.

Janices lingered in Forte Dei Marmi’s covered patio, not quite ready to let the day end. We all agreed that June 28 would forever be Janice Day, and the Janices made soft plans with each other to gather again next year and do it all over again.

As we walked back to her car, I asked my Janice what she thought of it all, now that it was done.

“It was lovely,” she said. “It was enlivening. It was funny, and it was poignant, just sayin’. Some Janices is good. Some Janices is bad. Some Janices is dirty, and some Janices is gracious. Just, whatever you do, be your own best Janice.”

And if you’ve got something to say to that, well, do Janice a favor and shut the fuck up.