Maine and New York City couldn't be farther apart, right?
You're thinking, 'Mainers are courteous, relaxed and generallyhappy to be living in the quiet of a more rural place. New Yorkersare impolite, rushed and grouchy because they're cooped up in thecity.' Stereotypes to be sure, but each with a grain of truth.
But during a recent conversation with the BDN's venerableShopGirl, we debated a theory she had about one of the differencesshe had noticed between Mainers and city folk.
Mainers are more reluctant to approach strangers and just talk,she hypothesized, than city people. That made me recall experiencesflying solo in bars or restaurants both here and in the city.
The last time I was in a bar by myself in Maine, I had aconversation with the bartender about my club soda being on thehouse. There were plenty of people in the restaurant but it was onlyas I was leaving, when I ran into a friend, that I had someone totalk to.
Yet during a trip to NYC a few years ago I wandered into a barfull of Pittsburgh Steelers fans on Sunday afternoon. The guysquickly gave me the nickname 'Bangor' and took me under their winguntil the game ended.
It sounded like a theory - are New Yorkers actually more outgoingand friendly than Mainers? - I was made to test.
And I had a perfect way to do it, too. I had planned to spend afew days after Thanksgiving in New York City. It just so happenedthat I was to stay in an Upper East Side neighborhood I knew to befilled with young singles.
My only rule for the evening was not to talk to anyone withoutbeing prompted.
I picked a Monday night with a football game between thestruggling Green Bay Packers and the surging Seattle Seahawks on TV -perfect for bringing out the guys, right? After a consultation with acity friend who is familiar with the area, I set off walking uptownon Third Avenue at about 9:15 p.m.
Oh, here's another big difference between Maine and New York - inthe city things get started later and bars stay open longer.
My solo odyssey began at the Back Page, a sports-themed bar near83rd Street. I sidled up to the bar and ordered an Amstel Light.Here's another of those city-country differences: the bottle of beerwas $6.
I was surprised to find the bar relatively vacant, with two guyssitting together at one end, another two sitting in the middle andone at the other end. In between there were plenty of empty seats, soI chose one near the men in the middle.
It was a wise choice for the moment, as the guys were having ananimated conversation about the time one of them was in love with awoman but couldn't marry her because she was Jewish and he wasCatholic. They knew I was close enough to listen in, which I did.
I must have given them a knowing smile - the Jewish-Catholic thingis something I'm familiar with - and as the loser-in-love left hepatted me on the back and said, 'Good night, sweetheart.' The otherfellow finished his drink a few minutes later, said good night andleft, too.
There were still two men at the far end of the bar, but I got noconversation bites. A few minutes later, with the first half of thegame coming to an end, I decided to move on.
Next up was the Mad River Bar and Grille, where any outdoors-loving Mainer would feel at home. There were canoes used as decor, apainted illustration of different fly-fishing flies, and much cheaperbeer.
I picked a seat at the bar next to a man who was drinking coffeeand watching the football game alone. He never said a word to me,maybe because he was too busy muttering to himself about the Packers,who were falling behind the Seahawks.
As the third quarter of the game wrapped up and the losing teamcontinued to fall behind, therefore increasing the man's mutterings,I decided to try a third bar with yet another theme. I settled onMcKeown's, an Irish pub a few blocks down from Mad River. The cornerseat was empty, so I took it, this time ordering a club soda.
Bar three, strike three. The bartender, an attractive guy with aneven more attractive accent, talked to me long enough to get my drinkorder. After about 30 minutes of listening to a man in a businesssuit try to pick up a blonde next to me, and as the Seahawks had thePackers on the ropes, I decided it was time to end my experiment. Itrudged back down Third Avenue to my bed.
In the final analysis, I can't point to what happened toShopGirl's theory (notice I give her all the blame now that thetheory was disproved). Maybe the football game was too distracting,although neither team came from anywhere close to New York. Maybe itwas me, dressed way down in jeans and sneakers after a long day ofwalking in the city. Or maybe it was an awkward time to visit a bar,late on a work night.
A few days later I returned to McKeown's, this time with a friendfrom Bangor who is living in the city, and his girlfriend.
This time, the point of the evening was to catch up with my friendand meet his girl. Sure enough, when I turned around to trade myrickety barstool for a steadier one, another bar patron standingnearby informed me he wanted to introduce a friend with whom he wasstanding. Caught off guard, I stammered something about being busytalking to my own pals.
Now I was really confused. A woman with enough guts to wanderalone in a bar and order a couple of beers during a football gamewasn't good enough, but a distracted woman on a wobbly chair was?
At least this was reinforced during my three-bar solo adventure:City or country, alone or in a group, frustrations with relationships- and the Green Bay Packers - are universal.
Jessica Bloch can be reached at jbloch@bangordailynews.net
