The first full night I was in Anchorage I was put up at the home of an Orthodox Jewish family with a little kid. Friday night I had the couch and the little one ran around with the remote turning on the television real loud and since it was the Sabbath no adult could adjust it and the young'un hadn't reached the age of reason. So I slept with the unit blaring. Then I had a week in a cute single room cabin on the east end of town house-sitting for an artist on vacation. The night she left all her artist friends passed a joint around the fire, quite legal at the time but I couldn't inhale. Then I rented a lowest floor apartment in the 'ghetto' area of downtown Anchorage. The room above was occupied by a late-night bartender at one of the hotter strip joints. He'd come home about 2 AM and turn his phone to speaker, max out the volume and giggle to the dial-tone.
I'll skip over the shared house where the men cooked and the woman hunted and chewed, the cabbie with the Castro convertible, the native who saw spirit heads, the convicted killer ("and some, presumably, are nice people.")