It was the proudest day of my unclehood. A new waiter at El Noa Noa came up to me a few months back and asked if I was, in fact, that guy who wrote about the plays for the newspaper. When I said yes, he asked to take my picture for the wall.
I was officially a celebrity.
I don’t care if he took the picture with his iPhone. Don’t ruin this for me.
When I think of pictures on restaurant walls, I think of Sammy Davis Jr. … John Elway … Kathy Sabine! And now, me.
To top it off, my nephew, Danny, was along to witness. A kid who stopped being impressed with me when I stopped working in sports nine years before.
This moment was a long time coming. More than 20 years, in fact, since I first came to work in The Post’s sports department. We worked through every dinner break . . . except for Fridays. Fridays, we forced ourselves to pull away from the dog-racing entries long enough to have one proper meal. Every Friday around 5, the chant would start to build around the office … “Noa! Noa!”
The mainstay at 722 Santa Fe Drive (303-623-9968) is the only place where a guy like me, allergic to onions and generally unadventurous, could ever be called a regular. Where the manager, Vidal, says hi every visit.
After I switched departments, our Friday-night ritual only became more important so I could stay connected to my best sports mates, Allen Daniel and Torin Berge.
Those visits have grown fewer and farther between: Changing schedules and health issues and what not. But I can honestly say I’ve eaten at El Noa Noa at least 500 times. And, being the creature of habit I am, I can honestly say I’ve had 500 smothered red bean burritos there. That’s it. Wait — once I went crazy and added chicken.
No matter. Even if I am the most boring orderer in food history … I am a regular!
With my picture on the wall. All it cost me was about $5,000 to get there.
“Can we have some more chips, please?”
John Moore: 303-954-1056 or jmoore@denverpost.com
