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D.C.-area LGBT residents share COVID-19 experiences
‘It’s the most sick I’ve ever been,’ says Rehoboth Beach survivor
Runny nose, some sneezing, itchy eyes — when Ryan Bos started experiencing those symptoms the week of April 8, he figured it was his annual annoying allergy onset.
By that weekend, though, a slight sore throat kicked in and he had some coughing, all typical of his usual allergies. By Sunday, April 11, he had a fever. A virtual doctor’s appointment the next day helped him determine it was a sinus infection.
During the next few days and with an antibiotic, his sore throat improved and his fever went down. But later in the week, Bos, who’s gay, lost all sense of smell, something he’d never experienced before.
Hearing from a friend that was a common symptom of COVID-19, the coronavirus that has infected 3.2 million around the world and killed 233,600, Bos, executive director of Capital Pride, went to the emergency room at George Washington University Hospital and got tested. Because of lab backlogs, it took 10 days to get the results. By that time his smell had returned but his COVID-19 test was positive.
The Blade this week spoke to three LGBT folks in the region — one in D.C., one in Annapolis, another in Rehoboth — about their experiences contracting and surviving the coronavirus.
Mariah Davis is a busy woman. She’s a policy and campaigns manager for the National Wildlife Federation, is working on a master’s degree from the University of Maryland in public management (she plans to finish in December) and she’s one of the founders of Annapolis Pride. She rents a room in a three-bedroom house in Annapolis and has two roommates. Like Bos, her symptoms also kicked in about April 8.
At first, she thought she had the flu but began to think it was something more serious despite not initially exhibiting many of the typical coronavirus symptoms she’d read about. She had extreme fatigue, body aches, persistent headache and congestion but no fever, no loss of taste or smell, no coughing and no sneezing.
She went to an urgent care center in her area and got a slip to get a COVID-19 test, which she had to drive about an hour away to Columbia, Md., to get through a drive-thru set up at a car emissions testing site.
“It was pretty freaky,” the 29-year-old lesbian says. “You drive through a garage, you get your test, it only takes like 10-15 seconds but yeah, that was an experience.”
That was a Tuesday. By Friday, she had her positive results.
“I knew there was a high possibility I could have caught COVID and by the time I went and got tested, I was already feeling a lot better,” Davis says. “In some ways it was a relief knowing I had it because then I knew what I needed to do to stop the spread.”
Tyler Townsend, a co-owner of gay bars The Pines and Aqua in Rehoboth Beach, Del., had a typically busy and bustling party weekend just before St. Patrick’s Day in March. They were allowed to have 100 on site to hear singer Pamala Stanley perform, which they did. He and friends went later that night to the Purple Parrot and “a few other bars” and did their usual socializing.
He started to feel sick on Friday, March 27. He’d known nobody else in his circle who’d had it and says it seemed to come “out of nowhere, just kind of random.”
“It was scary,” the 31-year-old Rehoboth native, who’s gay, says. “At the highest, my fever got to 104.8. It kind of came in waves. I’d feel OK for a while, then have chills, then take Tylenol and get it down. There was about five days of that cycle. Then after my fever broke, I had a little bit of a cough. It was about a week or eight days total. Then when the symptoms were gone, it was just being tired and just trying to get back to some kind of a normal life in isolation.”
Townsend, who shares a house with a roommate (although Townsend is planning to move into his own place soon), says he “just locked myself in the upstairs of the house” and waited it out.
There was one point his breathing got a bit shallow and he considered going to the ER, but it went away.
He got tested about two days after his symptoms started. He drove to Bethany Beach, Del., about a half-hour away, to get tested. The results took about a week to come in, by which time he was feeling better.
Townsend, who says he’s never had the flu, didn’t know what to compare it to.
“It was not fun,” he says. “It was more than just an inconvenience. There was not much beyond getting off the bed or the couch for a good four-five days. It’s the most sick I’ve ever been.”
The three regions Bos, Davis and Townsend represent are somewhat middling in overall number of coronavirus figures. Maryland is the 13th most affected U.S. state and Anne Arundel, with 2,054 infections and 107 deaths, is the fifth most infected county in the state. Rehoboth Beach is in Sussex County, Del., the most affected county in the state with 2,520 confirmed cases and 72 deaths. Delaware is the 33rd most affected state.
The District comes in at no. 36 in the nation (among states) with 5,322 confirmed cases and 264 deaths, but its figures are enough to put it pretty high among metro areas. It’s fourth behind New York, Chicago and Philadelphia but above Seattle, as of latest numbers according to the New York Times.
Of the three who shared their stories with the Blade, Bos fared worst.
About April 10, he started feeling “something in my stomach” that reminded him of the diverticulitis he’d had six years ago. He took himself to the ER about 4 a.m. on Saturday, April 11 and spent three days in the hospital. He went home, rested but got a fever again on Sunday, the 19th. By Friday, the 24th, his primary care physician advised him to go back to the hospital when it was discovered he had an abdominal abscess, a complication of the diverticulitis.
He says the COVID-19 and diverticulitis were related. The latter, he says, was more painful.
“For me, the COVID, the worst was when I had a temperature but the question was sort of mixed in with this sinus infection so not knowing how the symptoms overlapped — the worst part is just not knowing if you have the COVID, you begin to question everything you feel, every tightness, every cough, you wonder if you’re getting the next symptom and when it’s going to be over. That was one of the most challenging aspects,” Bos says.
He says he was fortunate not to experience shortness of breath or some of the more debilitating symptoms associated with the coronavirus. The diverticulitis, he says, was especially nasty.
“When you have a bad flare-up, it’s very debilitating,” Bos says. “I wasn’t able to stand up, it hurt to stand up, you have these shooting pains through the abdomen, you’re thinking, ‘Is this appendicitis, what is this?’ It definitely was not a fun experience at all.”
The staff at George Washington, Bos says, were “amazing.” It was never chaotic and he says they were on top of the testing and protocol.
Bos, who lives with one roommate (who has remained asymptomatic) in Mt. Vernon Square, says he has “no idea” whom he might have contracted COVID-19 from. He and the Capital Pride team were having their usual meetings in early March.
Davis, too, had several days of misery. She tried doing some teleworking and grad school work but says at its peak, the coronavirus sapped her energy.
“I felt really, really, really awful,” Davis says. “It was hard even to get out of bed. I’d start the day just taking a bath wth Tylenol, just trying to subside the pain. The fatigue definitely kept me on my butt for most of that week.”
Townsend had a gradual road back to health, he says with the cough letting up after his fever broke, then a lot of fatigue.
“It was definitely a slow process but I’m finally back to normal now,” he says. “It’s not just like bam, one morning you wake up and it’s over.”
Davis says now she “feels great.” She’s been told she’s free to come out of isolation and do normal activities provided she practices social distancing. She cites her overall good health with her fairly speedy recovery. The whole ordeal was about two weeks total for her.
Davis and Townsend’s roommates, so far, have not had symptoms.
While she was overall pleased with how her county — Anne Arundel — handled things, she says nationally there are disappointments.
“It’s pretty appalling that a lot of black and brown people are dying most of this,” she says. “I think that says a lot about who we prioritize in our country and that’s an issue that comes up across the board in other social issues.”
Bos said this week he’s “feeling pretty good” but “getting antsy.” He is still connected to a drain tube for his stomach infection and hopes to have it removed this week. “I miss running,” the 46-year-old Indiana native says.
Bos says he’s been pleased with how D.C. elected officials have handled the outbreak but says national leadership has been underwhelming.
“I expected more from our country in handling this crisis,” Bos says.
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The queer Asian comics building collective joy in D.C.
Spotlighting chaotic ways family, romance, identity take shape in their lives
Kevin Chen’s family tombstone has room for four: him, his parents and his boyfriend. The arrangement might prove to be a little awkward.
“My boyfriend is 100% white, and my parents are 100% disappointed,” Chen confessed.
Jokes about family traditions and the untraditional ways they’re practiced earned a burst of laughs at the bar where Chen was opening for the Pride Comedy Special. The D.C. stand-up event, produced by Comedy Bonfyre last month, spotlighted queer Asian comics who shared the chaotic ways family, romance and identity take shape in their lives.
From candid oral sex takes to top surgery hypotheticals like “Where do the boobs go?”, the night highlighted the loud camaraderie of the queer Asian experience — one that sounds like a cacophony of snorts, cackles and belly laughs. While the comics say they are not quite a community, there’s more than enough shared material to bring them together.
“It was such a magical experience. I loved performing in a queer API lineup. It feels so validating,” Chen said after the show. “I’m wondering, ‘Is this how white men feel all the time?’”
Each performance evoked queer Asian joy through a medium that could use more of its presence.
According to Chen, who is based in D.C., it’s hard to say whether there is a true queer Asian comedy presence in his city. There are only a scattered “handful” of Asian comics, and people of color are underrepresented in queer comic circles, he said.
When Tarunika Anand, a nonbinary lesbian comic, first entered the mainstream D.C. comedy scene, they mostly encountered straight white men, describing the experience as “a culture shock.”
“I feel like sometimes a lot of queer spaces are really white, and then a lot of Asian spaces are really straight,” Anand said. “I don’t feel like I fit into either.”
But feeling marginalized didn’t stop these comics from honing their craft and creating spaces for others like them. Alex Kim, who headlined the special and is based in Brooklyn, runs the queer Asian comedy group Boba Gays, which began on WhatsApp and has since made its way to Lincoln Center.
Every Wednesday, Anand co-produces a free comedy show called Funny Side Up. The queer-led group focuses on inclusivity and showcasing new talent.
“It’s really beautiful to speak about your experience and your existence in a way that’s uplifting,” Anand said.
Family is a major throughline of their comedic repertoires.
Chen, for instance, shared that he identifies with jokes about having Asian immigrant parents and the expectations they pass down.
“You see me, you know this part about me, you know this experience intimately, and I can see the truth that you’re trying to wrap a joke around,” he said. “That hits even harder because that’s my truth too. I think that’s what makes good comedy.”
Anand had the audience at the special howling when they explained that their parents’ be-more-like-them comparisons didn’t end when they came out. Instead, the expectations took on a new form.
“Now, my parents want me to be the best gay,” Anand said. “They’re like, ‘Do you know Ellen DeGeneres?’”
Kim said he’s been trying to unlearn things from his Christian Korean mom. Yet he described a moment when he was getting ready for the club and realized he looked just like his mother getting ready for church.
“I’ve been finding it hard to escape her,” Kim said.
Mutual recognition also radiates through the different ways queer love can take shape. From singlehood to death-do-us-part commitments, the comics cover just about every corner.
Anand is holding out hope for settling down with “a nice, pretty, Indian girl.” They recently went through a breakup and said they felt they dodged a bullet.
“As a person of color, I just don’t think I should be with a Swiftie,” they said.
Chen, touching on what it’s like to be in a queer interracial relationship, said that meeting his white boyfriend’s baby nephew for the first time felt like he was forced to participate in a diversity, equity and inclusion training.
“The dad was like, ‘Please welcome Kevin. Be curious about his culture, his history, his foods,’” Chen joked.
Laughter is not the only reward for the comics.
To Anand, comedy is a space where they can say whatever they want. “It gives me a voice,” they said.
Nik Narain, a North Carolina-based trans and nonbinary South Asian comic who performed at the special, said meeting older trans comedians and taking the stage helped him feel reassured in his identity during his transition.
“Stand-up was a really cool way to process that onstage,” he said. “[It] became a way for me to repackage my thoughts.”
Queer Asians are still figuring out their place in the greater D.C. comedy scene. The group is small in numbers and many are still working toward a full-time comedy career. But Narain feels he’s already made it.
Narain is reluctant to pin it all on one moment. He feels that success is already peeking through in milestones — opening for celebrities, traveling to performances and self-producing shows.
“As long as I can keep doing this, I’m super happy,” he said.
This story was produced as part of the AAJA VOICES fellowship program, a student journalism project of the Asian American Journalists Association (AAJA).
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Mr. Henry’s celebrates 60 years of proud inclusivity
Capitol Hill staple remains ‘a caring community’
America’s 250th isn’t the only milestone birthday D.C. is celebrating this year.
Beloved D.C. restaurant Mr. Henry’s, that Capitol Hill staple, celebrates its Diamond Jubilee all year long. Named for its original owner Henry Yaffe, the restaurant opened on a warm day 60 years ago in the summer of 1966 and has never looked back.
Yaffe took over what was then a country western restaurant, renovated the interior to his liking, and created an institution. Yet Yaffe had another goal. As a gay man, “he created Mr. Henry’s to be a place where everyone felt welcome — not easy in 1966 — and he succeeded,” says current owner Mary Quillian.
“Mr. Henry’s has long been a place the LGBTQ community has supported because they felt and still feel welcomed,” says Quillian. Even in the current administration, “the gay community and the diversity-minded community continue to come.”
Since then, Mr. Henry’s has changed hands, opened and closed its second floor, welcomed famed musical acts, and played host to politicians, date nights, breakups, and birthdays. But it still feels like home (and has a note in the National Trust for Historic Preservation) at 601 Pennsylvania Ave., S.E.
Its wood-paneled, Victorian-inspired art-filled décor in the downstairs dining room and bar serves American pub fare for lunch and dinner daily, with brunch on weekends (and a dog-friendly patio). Upstairs, Mr. Henry’s hosts live jazz performances and special events most nights, continuing a musical tradition that has defined the venue for decades. That upstairs bar has played host to names like Roberta Flack and Woody Allen.
Musician Kevin Cordt said that, “Mr. Henry’s has been a part of my life for more than 30 years. I started as a customer, then became a bartender and server, and now I have the good fortune to play trumpet at one of the best live music venues in Washington, D.C.”
Aaron Myers, executive director of the D.C. Commission on the Arts and Humanities, is also a supporter. “Not many cities can sport venues that have consistently served the community in the space of culture for more than 50 years, let alone can brag as the birthplace of culture defining talent.”
From the start, Yaffe promoted a rare yet celebrated combination of locals’ bar and soulful nightlife venue. Mr. Henry’s has attracted a diverse crowd at a time when such spaces were – and perhaps still are – uncommon, a diversity that is credited with helping protect the pub during the 1968 D.C. riots.
Longtime customer Evelyn Branic said, “Mr. Henry’s has been my ‘Cheers’ hangout since my wife and I moved to the Hill in 1987. I’ve experienced many iconic moments meeting politicians, reporters, civic activists, and neighbors engaging in spirited conversations. Whether political, LGBTQ, historians, neighbors, or out-of-towners, everyone could find a special place to be greeted as a friend.”
Its welcoming tables come dabbed with a bit of tea: In 1971, in a moment that has since become part of Capitol Hill lore, Yaffe lost the pub in a poker game to Larry Quillian. The Quillian family, recognizing the special role Mr. Henry’s played in the neighborhood, took over ownership, and committed to preserving its spirit. Today, Larry’s daughter Mary owns the bar, having given it a bit of a facelift for the bar’s 50th birthday, bringing in new tables and some fresh menu items.
For example, the menu has some of those dishes that regulars would riot if they disappeared. The Reuben and the hamburgers, the chili and in-house roasted turkey have never departed the menu. Dishes do evolve, says Quillen: they added wings about two decades ago.
In 2026, the restaurant is hosting monthly ticketed “decades” parties, celebrating each of the 10-year periods the restaurant’s been open, plus there were specials in June for Pride. The official 60th anniversary gala takes place Aug. 29, featuring performers, beverages, timeless favorite foods, swag – and the unveiling of a new cocktail.
Inclusive, eccentric, eclectic, Mr. Henry’s is looking forward to maintaining its centrality to diverse crowds in Capitol Hill. Battling inflation, rising menu prices, changing tastes, and thin margins, Quillian says that Mr. Henry’s has — and will always be — “a caring community for so many different folks. And THAT is why I am committed to keeping us going. Society needs places like Mr. Henry’s, now more than ever.”
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Television loses a legend, longtime ‘Will & Grace’ director James Burrows
Iconic hitmaker leaves behind a legacy of telling LGBTQ stories
You don’t have to be a pretentious film major to name 10 movie directors. But naming television directors is not that simple. They’re the unsung heroes of your favorite shows, and the late James Burrows was the television director. He passed on June 19, but his DNA runs through television history.
He directed over 1200 episodes of television and over 50 pilots. He co-created “Cheers” and directed many episodes of long-running series like “Friends,” “Taxi,” “Frasier,” “The Big Bang Theory,” and “Two and a Half Men.” You also may remember him from playing a heightened version of himself on the Lisa Kudrow comedy “The Comeback.”
He has left an indelible mark on the LGBTQ community. As recently as last year, he directed the series run of “Mid-Century Modern” starring Nathan Lane, Matt Bomer, and Linda Lavin. He was also a longtime director of “Will & Grace” and directed every episode of the series revival. He even directed the unaired “Absolutely Fabulous” pilot with Kathryn Hahn, Kristen Johnston, and Zosia Mamet.
Not to mention he’s worked with queer icons throughout history, including Betty White and Stockard Channing on their single-season series, and Jennifer Coolidge in “2 Broke Girls.”
He started his career on shows like “The Mary Tyler Moore Show,” “Rhoda,” “Laverne & Shirley,” and the first four seasons of “Taxi.”
He continued to work steadily and directed successful pilots that went to series for “Roc,” “3rd Rock From the Sun,” “Dharma & Greg,” and “Wings.” He directed multiple episodes of “Friends,” “Caroline in the City,” and “Frasier.”
This magic continued into the 2000s with him directing the pilots for “Two and a Half Men,” “The Big Bang Theory,” and multiple episodes of “Mike & Molly,” and the entire return series of “Will & Grace.”
What was the secret to his success? He’d enact the “fun clause” in his contract. In his words, “Life is too short to deal with obnoxious leads,” he shared. “So as long as the writing is good and the cast is fun, I’m going to enjoy the experience.”
He had the magic touch, having multiple pilots turned into long-running series. He was nominated for an Emmy 24 times in 26 years and worked consistently until a year before his death.
The secret was the way he brought the cast together. He describes, “it was my job to mold them into an ensemble, and they did round into a group of people who loved each other.”
This earned him 11 Emmy Awards and five Directors Guild of America Awards, including being awarded the inaugural DGA’s Lifetime Achievement Award for Television Direction.
In a 2003 interview by the Television Academy, he was asked how he wants to be remembered, and he said, “That every night forever you can tune in somewhere, and there’ll be a show I did.”
He’s survived by his wife, Debbie, four daughters, seven grandchildren, and the countless people whose careers he launched and the countless viewers he inspired with his television legacy.
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