Sleazy come-ons are big turn-offs

After spending the last couple of weekends on the road for work and otherwise, I’ve come to the conclusion that there are a lot of rude folks out there.

There was the airline employee at Logan Airport who I’m sure purposely left my bag in Boston. And the woman who slid into a parking spot I was waiting for in New Hampshire.

Worst of all was the group of guys sitting at the bar of a Connecticut hotel where I recently stayed during a college basketball tournament.

These men were so rude, they made me wonder why people think they can get away with acting like such buffoons or that their behavior is attractive to anyone. Maybe it was the alcohol – they were definitely nursing some beers – but they wouldn’t leave the poor bartender alone. Had I been out on the town with girlfriends instead of grabbing a quick bite to eat while on the road for work, I would have been so turned off by these guys.

Now, I’m fairly sure these men were married or were at least staying at the hotel with their kids, because the hotel was packed with families in town for a youth ice hockey tournament.

It also happened to be one of the first nights of the college basketball postseason and the restaurant was packed. I found an empty seat at the bar, behind which was the bartender, a woman who was very busy mixing drinks and pouring beers.

She took my dinner order quickly, but it took a long time to come out of the kitchen. I was forced to wait with the men sitting to my right.

One man started with a diatribe about his marriage, which was apparently failing but had improved lately even though he wasn’t sure he’d stay with his wife in the long run. Another felt he had to inform everyone in earshot that his basketball brackets were sure winners. A third was complaining about his son’s hockey coach … in a bar full of hockey parents.

It got worse, probably as the liquor continued to flow.

One of the men tried to buy the bartender a beer. She politely refused, and he pretended to be offended. “C’mon,” he said, “have a little fun.” Again the bartender said no, this time through gritted teeth.

Except the guys persisted. Stay after your shift and have a beer, they said. She laughed it off. What about tomorrow night, they asked. Again, she politely demurred. It was her night off.

So what, they said. Come in and drink with us.

On her day off? Yeah, right. She wants to spend her free time in a hotel bar with an unhappy husband, a blowhard sports fanatic and a man who argues about his kid’s playing time in youth hockey.

The restaurant started to empty a bit, so I could have gotten up and left for another seat, or a small table. I don’t know why I stayed put. Maybe I wanted to see how the bartender would handle herself. I think I was hoping to catch her eye and give her a look – a raised eyebrow in comaraderie, something like that.

But she didn’t need my encouragement. The bartender played it perfectly.

She turned around and looked at the trio. “I have a life, you know,” she said.

That seemed to be the end of that.

The whole experience made me think about the rude people I’ve encountered in bars. Of course, most of these people seemed to have been jacked up from one too many beers. The cockiness some people gain as the night grows late is an utter turnoff. Last summer I was out in Bangor for the evening when I ran into an attractive man I had seen at the gym a few times. He was sitting with a group a few seats down from me, so when he spoke I sort of listened up to what he had to say.

It wasn’t hard to hear – he was practically yelling while making fun of some of his pals. It was as if he knew he was being witty and wanted to be heard by everyone. And he definitely sounded sloshed, which was even more of a turnoff.

I haven’t seen him at the gym lately, and I don’t really miss him.

As for the youth hockey group, their misbehavior in the hotel continued for as long as my stay there lasted. They left candy wrappers and crushed soda cans in the hotel lobby and had to be told by the manager to not hit the emergency call buttons in the elevator.

That got me wondering where the young hockey players had made all that trouble – or if it was the so-called adults.

Jessica Bloch can be reached at jbloch@bangordailynews.net.