In ten days spent touring the southern central portion of Alaska, I saw that much of the state retains the small town America vibe that is rapidly diminishing elsewhere. The American spirit is strong within the pioneering men and women that make this rugged landscape their home. This was evidenced by countless American flags seen while traveling through Alaskan cities and towns. It appears that Alaskans have a great deal of patriotism, despite having been denied statehood for so many years.

People are different here than they are in what locals term the Lower 48, but they are friendly. They consider this the land of extremes; and such a land can be an ordeal for an outsider, especially one traveling alone. Although the major roads are paved, they're under construction throughout the summer to undo the damage caused by the sub-zero winter conditions that prevail nearly nine months of the year, and by the permafrost - the permanently frozen ground underneath the roads that creates unexpected bumps. And just to make the land of extreme driving that little bit more intense, add the fact that the highways are two-lane constantly curving roads where RVs pass you while you're going 60 mph uphill around a curve and there's no way of knowing if anyone's in the other lane.

Still, they come from all over to live here. I spoke to one bartender from the east coast who drove cross-country before winding up in Anchorage. He drove through California, Oregon and Washington and then hit severe winter weather while struggling to make it into Anchorage. He figured that if his battered-down car and battered-down soul could survive the extreme winter trek, he'd be able to handle life in Alaska. That was a winter ago and he's still there.

But I wanted to know what constitutes the day-to-day lives of Alaskans. And, yes, I was curious as to whether men really do outnumber women. I also wondered what impact the combination of an extreme climate and outrageously disproportionate male:female ratio would have on socializing between the sexes. Well, ok, maybe I was just wondering about all those single Alaskan men. But, more than that, I wanted to know who Alaskans really are and what makes them want to live here. Especially in Anchorage, the largest city in the largest state. With a quarter of a million residents and a median age of 32, these fun loving and friendly people must find something to do when the sun finally sets.

Downtown Anchorage is at the crossroads between a big city and a small town. It's larger than a one intersection Main Street U.S.A. town, but not as big as the typical downtown area in a major city. Also, the lack of chain retail establishments and fast food restaurants surely reinforces its small-townedness. No golden arches, Walgreens or Starbucks that frequent the bustling streets of downtown in many a major metropolis. Instead, downtown Anchorage has clean streets with baskets of flowers hanging from its streetlamps and hiking trails meandering along the outskirts of the city, tempting the curious traveler to venture out to behold the not so distant mountains. So it was that I found myself alone in Anchorage on a Friday night. The one person I knew who lived in Anchorage was 300 miles away visiting her boyfriend. So I had 72 hours to spend in the city and figured there must be a better option than wasting the evening hours with room service and pay-per-view movies. Besides, I was told that Alaskans are friendly by nature and figured that I could find something more entertaining than a club sandwich with which to while away the hours.

I began my foray into the Anchorage social scene with dinner at local seafood favorite Simon and Seafort's. This popular restaurant and bar located near the water at the edge of downtown is supposed to draw a large upscale professional crowd. There was certainly a packed house and with a wait of over an hour for a table, I decided to forgo a solitary meal in a booth and instead chose to squeeze in by the bar.

I chatted with a bartender from my hometown of Miami. He told me that he moved here after college and that he doesn't miss home at all. I found it strange that he didn't at least miss the sunshine as I knew I certainly did, especially after a week of cloud covered skies. Unfortunately, I couldn't continue the chat with the erstwhile Floridian as the bar was as packed as the restaurant. But he did fix me a fantastic apple martini served in a sugar rimmed glass.

Several friendly waiters peered curiously over my shoulder as I scribbled in my journal. Unfortunately, they were also too busy catering to the needs of patrons to dish out information on their town, so I resigned myself to eyeballing the crowd while the waitstaff bustled around. The atmosphere was friendly, but everyone was so busy that conversation was impossible. I decided to try my luck elsewhere.

It was still early, about 9:30pm., and things were pretty quiet. At least, that's what I was told by the long haired black clad bouncer at the Alley, a dive bar on 5th Street. He said that most people in Anchorage stayed out enjoying the sunshine and daytime pursuits and that nightlife didn't begin until after 11pm. He promised me free admission if I returned later to listen to a live local band. I told him I'd think about it and strolled onward.

I decided to check out the Hilton sports bar, where an Anchorage native and bartender suggested I head over to Chilkoot Charlies, the allegedly world-renowned and locally notorious place to see Anchorage in action. But after a couple of more drinks, including an on-the-house Welcome to Alaska cocktail, driving was not an option. Fortunately, there are many nightspots within walking distance in the compact downtown area.

My Anchorage pub crawl began with the small yet popular F Street Station around the corner from the Hilton. I began chatting with R and T, two airline mechanics, who appeared to be above the Anchorage mean age of 32. But these two guys, one married, one single, had plenty to say about the place they call home.