Contact: Keith Kimmel
Ph: 405.795.3800
E-mail: keithontap@gmail.com

(Norman, OK) Keith Kimmel, the man who filed a lawsuit earlier this year against the State of Oklahoma’s Tax Commission to secure a personalize license plate, says he was the victim of a gay bashing at the hands of the Tulsa, Oklahoma Police Department this weekend and has filed a complaint.

On Monday March 29, 2009, he filed a complaint by US Mail with the Internal Affairs Department of the Tulsa Police Department, claiming that he had been dragged across a parking lot, punched in the testicles and verbally assaulted by officers of The Tulsa Police Department after being involved in a fight at a Tulsa gay bar. The complaint included pictures of injuries Kimmel sustained in the incident. The complaint was filed by mail after Kimmel was unable to reach the Internal Affairs Department all day by telephone to find out how it could be faxed or e-mailed. “I would like to get this information into the hands of the Internal Affairs Officers as early as possible, but I have tried calling all day and have been directed to voicemail. I tried calling various other offices within the department, but they continually redirect me back to the Internal Affairs number that no one answers”, Kimmel said.

Kimmel says he isn’t sure if the incident comes as retaliation for his earlier suit against the state. “I do not know if someone in the Tulsa Police Department has taken it upon themselves to dole out justice in their own way because of the suit, but what I do know is there has been alot of media coverage about the case in Tulsa, and I think its something that should at least be looked into. Regardless of why it happened, it was completely unacceptable and unprofessional. I am currently seeking the advice of an attorney on the matter and will pursue the internal complaint procedure of the Tulsa Police Department to the fullest extent possible in the meantime.”

In the complaint, Kimmel asks the Tulsa Police Department to utilize the recently passed federal hate crimes legislation to ask the Federal Bureau of Investigation to help investigate the incident, despite the fact that Oklahoma State Senator Steve Russell has recently introduced legislation designed to allow Oklahoma to “opt out” of the new law. “Senator Russell may belive that the protections of the new federal hate crimes law are not needed here in Oklahoma, but I think I have just learned how sorely they are needed in a very personal way. This is not an issue where TPD should be allowed to investigate itself, an unbiased party should be brought into to examine the incident throughly and through an unbiased lens.”

A copy of Kimmel’s complaint may be downloaded in Adobe PDF format (6.17 MB) by going to: http://files.me.com/keithkimmel/l4g041.

So, here is how this whole thing really got started. One fine day, I found myself up in Tulsa, Oklahoma. I was there with some friends, Gary and Chris, and I brought a friend named Yue from OU Norman up there too. This group first met at Tulsa Pride 2009, after we all endured an insane after party with Bobby Crowfeather and some other demented souls, we were pretty much like plane crash survivors. A bond had formed between us, we now have reunions and such. Somehow, this crew and I wound up at a little dive bar in Tulsa known as The End Up. It was my first time there, but it quickly became my favorite haunt in Tulsa, as it features Go Go Boys every night at 10 PM and I like dicky dancers.

I was at End Up when this little blond bombshell took the pole, his name turned out to be Clayton Horner. He wasn’t the cutest and I have seen and had better. But once he came to my table, I was intoxicated with love (and booze) and we ended up exchanging numbers. My friends were busy with objects of their desire, I took on Clay for several lap dances. He was so drunk he nearly fell asleep standing up against me, and I took the opportunity to give him a very thorough back massage. Not a grab ass massage that you might give your average pole boy, this was the kind you might give a lover. Slow. Steady. Through. Loving. He responded – actually, he purred – and he and I talked. I basically told him I liked him and for the first time in a long time.

I felt a connection, one far deeper than the rentboy/client relationship I am used to.I have often preferred that detachment, that ability to sacrifice a small amount of money (which I can always make more of when I need to) to satisfy all my needs while taking no risks of emotional injury. That ability to have my fun and then put him – it, actually – out on the front door and not care what happens to him – I mean it – once he left my front door step. But throughout several times in my life, I have had a desire to have something more. To have a real relationship instead of a business transaction based on love instead of money, where the currency was mutual respect and compassion instead of PayPal and Visa.

We exchanged numbers. The next day, I thought about it. Was I wrong, had I just been drunk and imagined a connection that was not there? No, this transcended the booze, cut it like a knife. So I called him and he answered. We chatted a little bit, about how drunk he was and how he broke the shadow box at the end of the night when he fell into it. He then told me a little bit about his life, how he normally doesn’t get that plastered and told me when he’d be dancing again. We talked for like a half an hour, he said he remembered me from the night before and that he liked me as well and thought I was sweet. I told him to take care of himself, and he invited me to call again in a couple of days. I promised I would.

So like a week later, I called and I left a message which was not returned. There was something there, so I kept trying once or twice a month. Not enough to be pushy, just enough to say I am still interested. Its not stalking unless the other person indicates that the contact is unwanted, its just persistence and dedication. For all I knew, he was just busy or he never checked his voice mail. This went on for several months. Finally, I called him a last time and pretty much said I was giving up. It wasn’t returned. In December or so, I looked up Clay on Facebook and added him. Sent a message that wasn’t returned. Didn’t call for like a month, then one day just decided to call and… Clay answered.

He said he remembered me still and wanted to talk to me. I apologized if I had been creepy by being so persistent, he said not to worry he had just been busy with life. This started a string of conversations that turned into daily phone calls and Facebook messages. We talked about family, ex-lovers, about goals, plans, dreams and hopes for the future on both sides and so on. Some of the conversations lasted hours, others only a few minutes.

I am striking out the first half of this message because it contains alot of family and personal stuff and even though no consideration was shown for me or my feelings in this whole thing, I am not quite vindictive enough with regard to this little shit to go on an all out crusade and lay bare all his dirty laundry. This Facebook message is being reproduced unedited, with all misspellings and such intact, I have just cut the top half of the message off:

January 22, 2010 at 3:33am

we could definately get a chance to talk more, i figurei need to move one from my old life that this is all i know and everyone says running away doesnt solve anything well its not running when you are leaving to find yourself and happiness so hopefully this works out, im so excited thinking about a new life new start new me, i have been through enough to even keep going through this crap, ands it sucks because all most all of it is inflicted upon me like a plague lol sorry im babbling now lol, but feel free to ask absolutely anything i’ll be honest, trust me i am so tired of games ppl play not saying i never did that would be a lie but im not that same person by a long shot and luckly i have my family to thank, my brothers have always been my protecters and they are awsome to be around my parents well are parents but make great friends now im older and learned even though i did learn bad things too early, bad things happen to good people, good people should watch out for each other, but this laptop is about to die lol i cant find charger im at my lesbiaN friends house keepin her company until morning, but i want to talk more and again im sorry it took a bit lol…. and i remember that night talking to you not everything but i do remember and you were a lot of fun and great and interesting to talk to not like those other people who ugh lol, but i will talk to you again and i am interested in talking to you or seeing whatever but i just cant get hurt.

clay

Shortly after this message, we had the more serious relationship talks which I file under the “please don’t hurt me” category. Where I promised not to be a douche and he promised the same, etc. Most of all, we promised not to hurt each other, if we got together. And we chatted daily for alot longer. At one point, his parents were going to stop paying his cell bill because he was on a family plan with them and went over his minutes, so I bought him a prepaid T-mobile phone and mailed it to him because he had no money for one. His phone was the only way he could stay in touch with me and the rest of the world. At the time, I was in a huge financial pinch. He doesn’t know this, but something of mine went into the pawn shop so that phone could hit the mailbox. Clay moved out of his place with Josh (his ex) after he lost a job at Sonic as a result of some drama with that living relationship. Yep, he cried on my shoulder for that, too. Everytime Clayton Horner had a crisis, I was there for him the best I could be being 100 miles away. At one point, I asked Clay if he wanted to declare a relationship status on Facebook, he said we’d talk about it when I got to Tulsa.

What is particularly damning about this one is the fact that I actually helped him find his new boyfriend. No joke! This all began about two weeks ago or so, when I was in Tulsa for a mini-vacation from the daily bump n grind, and I went up to Owasso and got him from his parents place and brought him back to my hotel room and got ready. It was all kinda last minute the way it came together. I asked again about the relationship thing, and he dodged the question skillfully. This should have been my first clue that he was backing away, but like an idiot I had the blinders on big time.

So off we went to The Bamboo Lounge. Clay got shitfaced on my dime, it was our first true date. I got pretty wasted and I even sang Karaoke – I sang “Escape” (The Pina Colada Song) by Rupert Holmes. I butchered the lyrics therein, adding that it could be a boy to blame instead of a woman to blame. Little did I know but I was predicting the future, as it was unfolding between my very eyes. Well anyway, at some point this guy named Adrian sat down at our table and began hitting on Clay, who was at this point way too drunk to consent to anything, or for that matter, barely even stand up. I finally decided to pull Clay out of there and call it a night. Before I left, Adrian gave me his number and Clay insisted that I make sure that Adrian had Clay’s number, which I dutifully did, even got my own phone out to check it and make sure it was correct. So as soon as we got outside the bar, he kinda fell into my hands and started kissing me and thanking me for nothing and everything. He was obviously very drunk and I reminded myself that now would not be an appropriate time to do anything in the love making department, he was clearly vulnerable and needed to go home.

On the way back to his parents house, Clay passed out in the back seat of my car hard core. I was shouting at him and he wouldn’t respond at all. I text messaged Adrian and told him I thought it was shitty that he was hitting on my boyfriend when he clearly was drunk and not in a position to consent. He called and apologized up and down, saying he had no idea that Clay had a boyfriend, and he felt really bad like he disrespected me and all this happy horse shit. I thought we had an understanding and despite the fact that I was good and pissed at him, I decided to play it cool and realize that sometimes innocent misunderstandings happen and the guy was being decent about it. I was now at Clay’s parents place, and I had to wake him up so he could get back inside his house. I shouted at him and he wouldn’t respond, so I parked the car, shut off the lights and killed the engine and put my seat back (Clay was in the back seat) and shook him until he woke up. He started kissing me again and I kissed him back, then told him he better get inside after making sure he didn’t want me to walk him up to the door.

So I left, the next day was St. Patrick’s Day, and Clay was to dance at End Up. I was planning to go with Gary and Chris since Adrian was now all set, I decided to call and invite him. Little did I know, Clay had already invited him. Adrian texted Clay the next morning and said “Sorry, I didn’t know you had a boyfriend” and Clay supposedly responded back “Oh no” and then proceeded to tell Adrian how he had no feelings for me. The implication is obvious, Clay was playing me for everything I was worth. I wouldn’t find this out until after days of bothering Adrian, tonight he told me everything. It started by text, but later it wound up in a phone call and I could tell this little fucking prick was smiling while he was telling me this.

So anyway, back to End Up on St. Patty’s Day, Clay got very drunk again on my dime. Clay was on the schedule to dance three sets and after the first set, he announced that he didn’t want to dance anymore and couldn’t remember when his next set was. Then Adrian announced that after the next set, Clay was gonna pack his shit and leave.I tied to talk Clay out of it, because I was convinced that Clay was again too drunk to consent and everything I knew about Adrien told me big trouble was ahead. Adrian said he had just met Clay the last time he and I were together, Clay told me he knew Adrian for a long time. So I went and found Blake, the owner of End Up, and asked him about Adrian and Clay. Blake said that Clay said Adrian was his boyfriend. Fine, it was clear. Clay had made his choice. I have always respected people’s choices and I don’t interfere with them.

Still, the problem was Clay was drunk and in no position to consent. What kind of person who I be if I saw him getting picked up in a bar and did nothing to stop it? Yet, it was clear Clay had made his choice. So when Clay showed up out of the dressing room dressed (and after Blake told him he was giving up his job at End Up if he walked off stage without completing the schedule, something he has done before), it took me a few moments to decide what to do. I finally decided I had to let him go. He was sober when he told Blake what he did, which means he made this decision a while ago. I walked him out to Adrian’s car, told Adrian in no uncertain terms that this had better not end badly, told Clayton that he made his own choices and I respected them and reminded him that he was very drunk. Clay insisted he wanted to go. So in he got and I shut the door. As Adrian pulled out, I whipped out my iPhone and took a picture of his license plate as he left, just in case. I sent a text message to Adrian and told him what I did and told him that I would hunt him down if he hurt that kid. I sent another message to Clay and told him to call me the next morning to let me know he was OK.

I felt bad. Bad for my loss, and I felt like I should have stopped him from leaving for his own safety. But the Libertarian in me got the best of me and reminded me of my belief in personal responsibility and not protecting others from themselves. Imagine how much worse I felt when Clay did not answer my calls. I was frantic, worried that the worst had happened and above all, I could have prevented it and didn’t. He finally text messaged me a single line: “I’m fine, very angry with u”. That was the last I heard from him, he blocked and deleted me on Facebook a couple of days later and for several days I sat in disbelief. I went back to the clubs, but only after putting him out of my mind completely. Finally tonight, I decided to turn the heat up on Adrian and thats when I got the finally bits of the truth.

This Friday, my rage finally exploded and after getting very, very drunk at End Up, a fight ensued and I somehow wound up decking Mike who has been a good friend. How my anger wound up aimed at him I have no idea, it made sense in my drunken mind at the time I am sure, but it resulted in me getting ejected from End Up for starting the fight and then the Tulsa PD came. What happened after the Tulsa PD came, lets just say that will be another story for another day, pending an investigation already launched by the Tulsa Police Department Internal Affairs Bureau. None the less, I am going to work to repair my friendship with Mike.

So basically, the above is the story of how Clayton Horner, a 23 year old pole stripper, hustled me the best anyone ever has managed to. Never before have I swallowed so much bullshit in such a short amount of time. But I’m not missing a beat. I was back at the clubs a few days later, with a new attitude and new outlook on life. Its ironic that I sit here right now as I type this watching Logo show Queer as Folk episodes back to back. Its taken several hours to type and edit this. For me, writing is a purging process. It relieves pain. Some people cut themselves, others take drugs, I write and drink – and sometimes take drugs, too. But tonight, I wrote and this is my big fuck you to the world and especislally to Clayton Horner.

I think I have said that Brian Kinney is my idol character in the QAF series, someone who is very much a sociopath, incapable of loving anyone who has lots of mindless sex and worries only about how he feels, what his needs are and says to hell with everyone else, their feelings, wants, desires and needs. Only he hawt enough that he doesn’t have to pay for it. I am going to truly embrace the attributes of Brian’s character in myself. I used to hold out hope that there is a place for true love in my life. But I see now that there is not. Only insane people make the same mistakes over and over without learning from them. The definition of insanity is repeating the same set of steps expecting a different outcome. Not only am I not insane, I am also intelligent enough to learn from my mistakes. And attempting to love people around me is, was, always has been and always will be a fucking mistake.

To sum it up shortly, my new approach goes something like this: fuck you all. Its all about me from here on out.

So, ya’all, here is the new deal:

Do you need money? Got an hour or two of spare time? I’ll buy your time, if you are hot. Don’t tell me about your life because with few exceptions, I don’t care. You are not a person to me, but a means to satisfy and end. Just as a hire an account to file my taxes, I hire you to service my cock with your mouth and with your asshole. My accountant is my tax service provider, you are my sex service provider. I don’t ask my accountant about his life or his kids, because he is there to file my taxes, not find emotional support. And you are there to provide me with sex, I pay you a fee for that. Take your fee and go. I will treat you with basic professional respect, which means I wont hurt you physically, I wont be emotionally abusive for the sake of doing so (but if I feel like saying something, I will let it be said), I wont take advantage of you and I wont make you do anything you don’t consent to. Beyond that, your feelings are not my concern. Interested? E-mail me. My address is: bemyrentboi@gmail.com.

This may all seem quite cold and heartless on my part, but you know what, I really don’t care. I am done trying to love a world that has no love for me. I am done trying to believe redeeming things about people who have nothing redeeming about them. I am done caring for people who simply mistake my selfless caring for a ticket to a free ride. People have not earned the respect or the credit that I give them. But I will never know this pain again. You, Clayton Horner, have ensured that I will never love anyone again. You sir, have finally turned me into the sociopath that many people think I am.

Its been difficult to find webhosts that would tolerate me. Many years ago, I was sued by one of my webhosts after I said some unflattering things about their service. A non-disclosure agreement prohibits me from talking about that incident. A favorite tactic of corporate America these days is to threaten the webhost of anyone who says anything they don’t like with a lawsuit if they don’t silence their customers, and most webhosting companies out of fear, ignorance or laziness – or a combination of all three – cave in and shut off the customer’s account even though the customer is not doing anything illegal.

After some searching, I found this company NFSN, Inc. that was offering hosting services under the name Nearly Free Speech. My hardware and bandwidth requirements are nowhere near what they used to be as I don’t need an entire cluster of boxes to myself anymore. After looking into the pricing of this place, which offers a very reasonable pay as you go approach to all services, they also offer something more important: management that knows how to handle legal threats and respond to frivolous ones by… doing nothing.

Have to say that after using their services for a week now, they are a company fit to serve up my shit. I may start working on some of my more controversial projects and getting them online.

I just finished up an interview on Sirius/XM for The Jay Thomas Show, which was kind of a crazy, but fun show. We talked about the plate case and they had callers suggest plates I could get and we also kinda had a “Ask the Gay Guy” segment. They had a caller come and ask me if I had ever gotten poo on my wong, which was kinda disgusting. Thats why you always check your boys before you do them, folks. Always, always inspect that ass. Hey, this advice goes for you straight boys, too. Always look before you insert your roll of quarters in the vending machine.

Its St. Pattys Day, so tonight I’ll be going to End Up in Tulsa to hand out with my boy (hes dancing tonight, gotta support the home team) and I bought a new green shirt just for the occasion. The fun starts at 8 PM, hope you to see some of you there. I know Chris and Gary will be there.

So in other news, The Oklahoma Supreme Court has admonished the legislature yet again for seeking to enact and enforce unconstitutional legislation. You’d think they would have gotten the hint after the first dozen times. I also finally got tired of answering e-mails from folks asking about the plate case, so I posted an update to the site for the plate case. I wasted about twenty minutes of my life and read the drivel on The Advocate about the train wreck that is Johnny Weir. I think he is really is a brat. A cute one, though.

Ratings (Key)

Overall: 1.50
Presentation: 0.75
Taste: 2.50
Service Quality: 1.00
Service Promptness: 1.25
Service Accuracy: 2.50
Menu Selection: 3.00
Menu Clarity: 2.75
Value: 1.50
Queer Friendly: 2.50
Hot Staff: 0.75

Lets be clear from the get go that this was not a date, Oklahoma’s Most Beautiful Boy has a husband and despite the fact that I find him extremely attractive (which he knows) this is a friends night out and nothing more. I enjoy his company a lot and so I don’t mind spending a little money on him as one might spend on a boyfriend. Many people don’t understand the dynamics of the relationship and mistake it for, well, whatever. As he often points out, its hard to find a “complete package” of beauty and brains in Oklahoma City. While it was not a date, we do go to nice places and I do expect the same level of service I would expect on a date, after all, it’s not any cheaper because it isn’t a date and I expect to get alot of the same things out of it most people expect on a date, like the ability to talk one on one.

To put it bluntly, the atmosphere, presentation of the food, service and the arrival of the check made me want to vomit. For starters, the place bills itself as a top of the line steakhouse. Its nothing of the sort. Undoubtedly the most over-rated restaurant I have ever had the misfortune of dining in. I wound up leaving $170 on the table for a meal that wasn’t worth $70, this includes the customary tip of 20% which was left out of respect to my dining guest and my desire not to raise a stink right then and there not because it was earned. If I were dining alone, I would not only have not left a tip, but I would have left an address to mail the refund check to and I would have taken the manager back into the kitchen and shown him how to make food presentable before it hits the table.

The atmosphere reminds me of a nice Dennys on the good side of town. People sit right on top of you, so there is no privacy (which makes talking about blowjobs, anal sex and who has a nice penis over dinner and wine without offending neighboring tables difficult) and there is nothing in the place to buffer the sound, so its like sitting in an echo chamber. Here is a hint, fancy restaurant designers: people go to nice restaurants to relax, unwind and enjoy peace and quiet. They also go to talk to the person they are taking out to dinner, to enjoy their company and enjoy being with them. None of these was possible, and I often had to ask Oklahoma’s Most Beautiful Boy to repeat himself, much to his annoyance. I couldn’t hear him over the clatter and roar of the restaurant. If I want to hear everyone yap about their lives, I can go to Applebees or TGI Friday and pay $40 for two including drinks.

The presentation of the food was awful, save the cheesecake which we both agreed was attractively presented. When it arrived, Oklahoma’s Most Beautiful Boy remarked “Wow, I think this is the most attractive thing to come to the table yet”.  I had to agree. Hindsight being 20/20, I should have snapped a picture of it with my iPhone, because the presentation on the desert really was well done. Ironically, it was also the cheapest thing on the ticket and probably the only item not prepared in the restaurant.

His Shrimp Fettuccine Alfredo was presented with a touch of class – with four shrimp set at compass points on the rim of the plate and the pasta piled in the center – but it still was not what you’d expect to have gotten for the price. It looked like an Olive Garden specialty. My Surf and Turf was just thrown on the plate with no particular attempt to make it attractive. Neither dish was garnished. Every chef knows that presentation is one of the most important aspects of the dining experience and they made little effort to do so much as throw some parsley at these dishes.

The service was for shit, I have gotten better service at sit down burger places. The server filled the drinks a total of three times, often left them unfilled for a long period of time. The server made an awkward show of reaching across my face and over my plate to remove my lobster tail from its shell without asking me if I’d like it de-shelled. Prior to that, some guy who was not even our waiter walked by and took my shrimp cocktail off the table without a word – and without noticing we were not done with it as there was still a jumbo shrimp clinging to the side. Before I could object after a moment of speechlessness and shock, he was already half way back to the kitchen. A few minutes later, he returned to apologize for taking it, saying he didn’t see the shrimp there and gave me the cocktail back. Never offered to make me another one, or asked me if I wanted it back.

This incident was probably the biggest screw-up of the evening here. Proper procedure in what is supposed to be a high-class restaurant dictates then when you fuck up and snatch someone’s food off their table and don’t realize they weren’t done until you get back to the wash pit, you don’t bring the same thing back to them without offering to make them a new one. First off, it was your error and the establishment should eat the cost. Second, you have just had your grubby little hands all over my food, to bring it back to me and suggest that I eat it is an insult. Finally, you took my food back to the wash pit. How unappetizing is it for you to bring me something from the trash can to consume? Give me a break. Never mind the fact that the kid clearly doesn’t know the first thing about waiting tables in a decent restaurant, if he did he would have asked before reaching to the middle of the table while we are talking to ask if we were done with that dish. Heck, the even do this at family restaurants!

Finally, we get to the bill. Before the check arrived, I asked Oklahoma’s Most Beautiful Boy what the check would be. I wasn’t adding it up and my surf and turf was a  market price item, so the price wasn’t in the menu. He guessed about $80 and I concurred. I felt that was about what it was worth, sort of. When the check arrived for $141.75, we both exhaled at about the same time and said words to the effect of “no way, not worth it”. They charged $75.95 for my surf n turf, and I must say that while the lobster tail was good size, the turf portion of my dinner was barely larger than a business card. I don’t believe it was a 7 oz filet, even if that’s the precooked weight. We both agreed that it wasn’t a $75 plate. Of course, presentation goes along way to making a diner feel like they got a good value

The bottom line: Mickey Mantle is an overpriced steakhouse that touts its ritzy location on the Bricktown canal to the hilt, charges way too much for what they deliver and is extremely over rated. I don’t mind paying for quality, but when you are gonna stick a bill for $170 (including 20% tip) on my table over a diner for two that didn’t even include drinks (Oklahoma’s Most Beautiful Boy rarely drinks), you had better be doing something doing something exceptional to earn your asking prices. At the very least, give me competent service from a wait staff that acts like they have worked in a world-class restaurant before. These hacks were a complete disgrace to the profession. Its clear that the management does not provide training and has terrible hiring procedures.

Now, lest this review find its way to the wait staff who served us this evening, I want them to know that I don’t blame them for the awful experience. I blame their boss. Its clear they were doing the best they could with what they were given. They were polite and caring, but are clearly just ignorant of the proper way to wait tables. The responsibility for that, my friends, rests solely with the management, as it is the management who is ultimately responsible for the performance of the wait staff or lack of it. Oklahoma’s Most Beautiful Boy owns several businesses and while I don’t always agree with his business decisions, there is one thing about his approach to business that is spot on and that is that management is always responsible for the success or failure of the business and satisfaction of the customers. Knowing that, he often chooses to manage everything himself rather than delegate that to anyone else.

The buck stops with the management, period. All failure or success in a business, regardless of who actually screwed up or did good, is a product of the management and therefore they are directly responsible for it. This is something that Mickey Mantle could apply to its business methods. Start taking responsibility for its staff and get them on par with other area restaurants, because this one is far below par to say the least.

I am printing a copy of this blog post (along with a cover letter) and mailing it to the owners of the restaurant with a copy of my receipt along with an address of where they can send me a refund check. The experience was that awful. I wouldn’t recommend Mickey Mantle Steakhouse if it was the last restaurant in Oklahoma City unless they had a dollar menu, because they don’t deliver much above fast-food levels of service.