One of the sad, comforting things about traveling to major U.S. cities is that they feel a whole lot like one another. Sure, New York has the New York thing and D.C. is D.C. and Chicago, Chicago. But on every corner are the same big-box stores and the same locals rushing to work and the same tourists. Same same same. This makes it possible for me to board planes with nothing more than my boarding pass and a hotel address and know that when I touch down I’ll have no problem getting where I’m going and everything will be quite predictable. Not so true for Alaska. The plane ride was different, for one thing. It was a rowdy, individualistic group, with men fighting the flight attendants over what could and could not go underneath the seats in front of them, and lots and lots of fancy camo-designed clothing and outdoor gear. Everyone looked slightly defensive, as if preparing for an onslaught.

Read the original here Jennifer Schneider: Anchorage, Pt. 1