Usually when I see a bar in a strip mall that not only has no window to peek through, but also has no obvious entrance other than two large, thick steel doors -- the kind that might also be on the front of a serial killer's storage room -- I tend not to think about going inside, no matter how much I've heard about it.

But when my editor suggests I cover a bar I've never been to (the rarest of events), I steel myself, don my best heels and make my way to Muldoon.

Yes it was my first trip to the Last Frontier. I'd heard many a story about its famed nightlife status, and I have friends who live on the east side and refuse to go anywhere else on a weekend. Finally I understand.

The bar is a well-lit, spacious venue boasting a top-notch dance floor. My companions also noticed the pool tables -- several, spaced out and just waiting for us to use them. The clientele is pretty random, but that's Anchorage for you. Nowhere does the city's nightlife diversity show itself better than at the Last Frontier. Slick, sport-coat-clad college boys hang with leather-boasting bikers and women wearing gear straight from the '80s (including body suits a la "Blossom").

The bar layout is one of the cleverest I've seen in town -- it arcs in a slow, snake-like ramble around the entire length of the back wall, but allows copious room to sit, visit or find a spot to order shots. The bartenders were downright jovial, including one I followed up with later, Megan Killoran. Killoran has been bartending at the Last Frontier for around nine months and said she loves it. She also explained the humongous vase-like apparatuses sitting on the far right of the bar.

Beer vessels, Killoran said, are convenient for customers who don't want to keep going back to the bar all night. You order just one (you must have at least five people to share it) and the bartender fills the entire thing to the brim. A spout at the bottom dispenses the brew to you and your table mates. Best idea ever?

Domestic pints on tap run $3 before 8 p.m. and $3.50 afterward; microbrews and imports run $3.50 and $4.50 after 8 p.m. Well drinks (the bar assures me they don't stoop to serving Monarch or anything sub par) are $6 until the 8 p.m. cut-off, and $7 afterward. There is a door cover, but it's a cheap one -- especially if you realize that once you get in, there really isn't anywhere else you'd rather go in that immediate part of town. The bar is free every day of the week except Friday and Saturday, and on those days a mere $3 gets you in after 10 p.m.

The bar has a lot going on other than just pool and vessel-oriented drinking. There's a DJ every night bumping the tunes on a great big dance floor and on Wednesdays a different live band performs each week. The bar is also starting an open mike night on Tuesday nights (hosted by Killoran), open to anything from poetry, comedy, a capella or your garage band debut. All events begin after 8 p.m.

The difference between the Last Frontier and other Anchorage haunts is a sense of community. If you live on the east side I'd highly recommend it as an option. "Once you start coming here it kind of ends up being 'your bar,' " Killoran said. Like an Anchorage version of "Cheers," I suggested? Killoran laughed. "We always say that, it's a good bar to hang out in."