My 423 foot mistake in Oklahoma City.

A few weeks back I joined my son Bobby on his quest to move to Chicago. That Thursday morning we left Albuquerque and nine short hours later we made our way to the Bricktown Convention Center Hotel. I wanted to make this a memorable night for him so I asked the desk manager if there was a steak house in town that was worthwhile.  He stated, "Mickey Mantles Steakhouse is the best!" This sounded like a great recommendation plus the manager also reminded us that with our room reservations we also got free shuttle service back and forth to the down town (Bricktown) area.   It was agreed that Bobby and I would meet downstairs at six for the shuttle ride.  As a side note, Mickey Mantle is the best baseball player to come out of Oklahoma. For two baseball fans this was going to be great.

    I was the first one downstairs and I asked the desk manager which way to the shuttle. He pointed toward an elderly black gentleman sitting by himself in the lounge chair.  He looked a little like BB King (except he didn't smile very big and when his mouth did open I could see that his front teeth were gold!)  Bobby joined me as I began to ask Luther about driving us to the restaurant. I asked him, "How far is Mantels?" He mumbled something and started to walk outside. Bobby and I followed him to a minivan. We got in not knowing if we were going to dinner or a legalized cock fight.  About a minute into our shuttle ride I became "chatty." I practically told this guy our life story before he joined the conversation.  He talked about being eighteen and spending two glorious months at the beach in California before being sent back to Oklahoma.  I imagine his two months were probably during the Nixon administration.  
   By the end of his short story about blondes and bikinis at Venice Beach, we arrived at the restaurant. "Here you go, enjoy dinner" said Luther. We walked inside the small and dimly lit restaurant.  We were greeted by a young female hostess who sat us down.  I looked around looking for pictures or memorabilia of Mickey Mantle, but could see none (maybe there were some in the back or in the bathroom, I thought.)  Our waiter came up and mentioned the specials of the evening and took our drink orders.  Bobby and I made small talk about his conversation with his girlfriend which distracted me from looking for more clues about Mickey.
   Our drinks arrived and the waiter took our order for dinner.  I kept looking around for any sort of clue regarding the relationship of the name of this restaurant and its interior decor.  My soup arrived (the Lobster Bisque was a good choice.)  Bobby was eating his salad when my curiosity could no longer be held back.  I called over the hostess and asked her about the name.  She replied, "I don't know why it's called Mantels, I've only worked here three months.  I'll get someone who knows."  A minute later our waiter showed up and I asked him the same question.  His reply, "You want Mickey Mantles. Those bastards opened up the same year we did and we have been fighting them over the name ever since. We're 'Mantels'.  As in wine mantel."  I was stunned at the mix up. I asked him, "Where is it located?"  He said, "just down the street."
   As you can imagine how confused and disappointed I was that we  ended up in the wrong place on a night I was hoping to make special for my son. Bobby is a baseball fan and I thought this steakhouse would be memorable. We finished and walked outside where I could see the sign for Mickey Mantle's restaurant.  It was only 423 feet away.  Ironically,  this was the average distance for a Mickey Mantle home run.