My mother, who is the reason I am alive right now, typing with actual fingers that actually exist, used to ask me to clean my room. And I would ignore her. I would ignore much of what she said, actually, disobeying very reasonable orders frequently.
But Drake, a rapper whom I have never met and whose vagina I have most certainly never been forced out of, posts one tweet and here I am, wearing a black shirt and jeans, roasting away in line on a Wynwood sidewalk at 4 p.m. on a Tuesday. I too agree that I am not a good person.
But also, Drake is a powerful force; you have to at least give me that.
The 29-year-old Torontonian has a knack for getting people to do irrational things: He managed to make emotions cool again in a genre where most affection takes place between a man and his glock. He made it hip to be from Toronto. And he somehow convinced the world that it was cool to dance like you just found out about knees.
And he got me, and somewhere around 1000 other people, to stop whatever they were doing this Tuesday afternoon and haul ass down to Wynwood to stand in line for, what exactly, we're not sure.
The main question being whispered in line seems to be if Drake will actually show up. Most people are rightly pessimistic. But at one point a black mini van rolls up to the empty parking lot accompanied by a cop car and a few people wonder aloud if it's Drizzy inside.
"Yo, Drake ain't rolling up in a mini van, bro."
"Man, that's his Uber."
"Na, that's Jimmy Brooks. It's a handicap van. He about to get out in his wheelchair."
It was not Drake.
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Our long and jumbled line leads only to a small white moving van parked in an empty parking lot that says "Views" on the side and has the Drake prayer hands symbol on the back. The word "Views" is referring to Drake's upcoming album, Views From the 6, which drops on April 29.
This is all promotion for his highly anticipated upcoming album. There's a 99% chance it will be really, really good because Drake is at that magical point in his career where he can do no wrong. Like a marshmallow that got too close to the flames, he's on fire.
Drake tweeted out nothing but an address at around 3:30 p.m. and by 4:00 there are already well over 100 people in line across the street from Wynwood's Mana. By 5:30 we're all still here, and the line still ain't moving. The line, which was at one point organized and single-file, has been widened to fit more people and now looks more like a feeding trough. People, as they tend to do in Miami, are starting to sweat and, at the center of the line, it smells like a hot smoothie of greasy hair.
At this point most people know that the only reward for this labor will be a T-Shirt. The day before, Drake did the same thing in New York City, and the same thing happened: A line across the block. A bunch of free shirts.
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Still, not one person is budging.
The line finally, and slowly, starts moving at around 5:40. When you do reach the white van, you bark out your shirt size, and are handed a white bag with a T-shirt inside. Both the bag and shirt only say the word "Views" on them. The shirt is indeed soft. It's 100% cotton and made in Mexico.
Though, at this point in his career, Drake could have been handing out horny water moccasins and we still would have gladly stood in line. That's impressive. Only a handful of people, let alone musicians, have that kind of influence.
Let's just be glad he's not using that influence for something more pernicious, like trying to get us to sign up for Tidal.