PAPA KENO'S PIZZERIA Back what seems like hundred years ago I did my first radio commercial. It was for a tattoo shop I was running in Hawaii and it aired on Island RockY101.5 FM. At the time I had no idea where this seemingly simple advertising decision would lead. As with every new adventure in my life I had inadvertently tripped over a pile of fate and fell face first into a puddle of destiny. In my life there have been many blizzards, times when I couldn't see where I was going and was tempted to turn back or just give up and sit down. Right about then an Eskimo will usually appear and show me the way. In this particular case my Eskimo was radio DJ, singer and actress; Becky Summers. Before long with her help. I became Hawaii's best-loved bad boy DJ and was living on the air 7 days a week. We had spent a couple of years on the air together when I got my shot to become a pro wrestler. I packed my bags and headed for the squared circle and the spot light. Becky left Hawaii sometime later and somewhere in the shift we inevitably lost touch. As luck would have it a few years later we both ended up in Colorado, her in South Park, me in Denver, and that is where this story begins. I was just driving around returning a myriad of calls as usual when I heard four words that I hadn't heard in years; "Hi Bob it's Beck". Back when we were working together those words began and ended almost my every day. Hearing that familiar phrase sent me into a series of nostalgic flashbacks. I was lost in reliving things like our afternoon drive, bantering back and forth between music slots, and trying to silently distract one another while doing live news reads. The movies played on and on until I was jarred back to reality by the driver behind me laying on his horn and screaming something about the shade of green that the light in front of us had turned. I decided I had better pull off the road before I returned this call so I wouldn't end up as a traffic statistic. In a few moments Becky and I were doing the 100-year catch up, during which the tattooed food critic gig of course came up. We decided to meet up the following day here in Denver and she said that since I was a food critic she would pick the place. There was a pause in our conversation and I could tell she was waiting for my suggestion. As par for the course my memory was inaccessible and all I could think of was the places that I hated. Trying to think quickly wasn't working so I began looking around wildly for a clue. I had pulled off the street right next to some falafel place; I knew that would never work. It's not so much that I'm anti falafel, I don't belong to any falafel hate groups or anything. I'm more of a falafel separatist, I believe it should be allowed to live out its life how it sees fit in so long as I don't have to participate. Luckily Denver's diversity came through for me because there was a little pizza place next to it so I told her to meet me there. Soon as I hung up I realized that this could end poorly if it turned out the place sucked so I decided to go in and try it out before we actually met there. When I first walked in although the place looked nice enough there wasn't any distinguishing characteristics that made it seem especially interesting. Never the less the smell of the place had made me immediately hungry so I started looking over the menu. The sausage calzone looked good but since it was only 3.50 I figured it would be pretty small so I decided I better have a slice of pizza to go with it. In record time my waitress Shilo brought out my lunch. She had some of the nicest Wizard Of Oz portraits on her leg I had ever seen. I asked her who had done them and it turns out my partner Jeff Benson that I work with at Body Creations was her artist. After we got finished with the whole small world bit I looked down at what she had put on my table. There sat the Mega Calazone, in most cases if you spend 3.50 on a calzone it's just big enough to fill a shot glass, but not at Papa Kenos! This thing was a monster! A real two hander! And as if that wasn't enough the pizza slice was Fred Flintstone size too! Too big for even two hands and almost too big for one person! I obviously had missed the characterization on the menu that said 'a slice as big as your face' when I ordered. They were both awesome, examples of cheesy meaty saucy heaven and almost more than I could eat. Once I had finally finished my pizza fest I was leaning back to unbuckle my belt in my usual white trash all you can eat style when my cell phone began to ring. It was Stephanie Glen telling me something about an idea she had for a thanksgiving cover story.... All Rights Reserved © 2001 Go-Go Media, LLC