Warm hut, cold heart. While skiing at Winter Park, I stopped at Sunspot -- a gorgeous log-and-stone "lodge" with amazing panoramic views of the Continental Divide -- for a toe warmer, otherwise known as a hot alcoholic beverage. But while this cozy area looked like the quintessential ski-resort bar, with a roaring fire inside a beautiful river-rock fireplace, big wood beams crisscrossing overhead and comfortable seating, I felt like I'd stubbed my toe rather than warmed it. Because lording over the lovely surroundings was the rudest bartender I have come across, and that's saying something. When I asked what was in the disgustingly sweet Butter Baby ($6.75), he looked at me like I had just performed a ritual sacrifice of his new puppy, then barked, "Butterscotch Schnapps, Irish cream and coffee." Cowering, I requested the brand names, and he growled, "It doesn't matter." It mattered to me, I said, and he finally threw me a bone: "DeKuyper Buttershots Schnapps and St. Brendan." Well, at least I now understood why he hadn't wanted to share this information. My friend had asked for a bottled beer; it was lukewarm. When he asked, politely, for a colder beer, the bartender snarled, "That's as cold as you're going to get." No, buddy, you are as cold as we're going to get.