What Counts as Truly Having “Been in” a U.S. State?

I’ve visited all 50 of them, at least as I define that experience. Here's what does and doesn’t qualify.

(Photo by Flickr user Mark Clifton)

Back in March, I took a trip to Hawaii, America’s 50th state. It was also my 50th state — the final box to be checked on my list of U.S. states that I’ve visited.

Hitting all 50 states wasn’t a lifelong ambition or anything like that. But after doing a lot of road-tripping and travel writing in the late 1990s, I realized that my state count was already in the 40s, so at that point I figured it would be fun to get to 50. That raised the question of what does or doesn’t qualify as having been in a particular state, so I developed a set of standards and guidelines to address that.

Let’s start with what I think doesn’t count as having been in a state:

• Being in an airport doesn’t count. If you’re flying from Philly to L.A. and have to change planes in Denver, have you been to Colorado? Not in my book. Airports are sterile, artificial environments that generally have little if any sense of place. (If you doubt this, consider that Cincinnati’s airport is actually in Kentucky.) Populated with the same chain shops and the same protocols, airports have more in common with each other than with their local surroundings. When you’re at an airport, you’re not really anywhere — you’re Nowhere.

• Things you can’t remember don’t count. If your family went to Disney World when you were a toddler but you were too young to remember any of it, have you been to Florida? Technically speaking, yes; but for the purposes of these guidelines, no. Being somewhere means experiencing that place in a meaningful way. If you can’t recall any of it, then it doesn’t qualify.

• Driving through a state doesn’t count (usually). If you drive from Dallas to Wichita and pass through Oklahoma without getting out of the car, have you been to Oklahoma? I would say no, because being somewhere requires more than just sitting in the hermetically sealed environment of your vehicle. Still, there are some exceptions. Driving on the Blue Ridge Parkway, for example, is arguably a quintessential state experience in Virginia and North Carolina. Also, some states have highway quirks that have become part of the local culture, like New Jersey’s “jughandle” turns, which are so endemic that they’re also known as “Jersey lefts.” Similarly, up until 1974 and then again from 1996 through 1998, there was no daytime speed limit in Montana, so motorists could go as fast as they wanted as long as it was “reasonable and prudent.” That law was eventually struck down for being unconstitutionally vague, but for a while there you could drive really fast in Montana, which was definitely a state-specific thing.

Yes, they really had signs like these. (The state’s current daytime speed limit is 80.)

Okay, so if those things don’t count when tallying up the number of states you’ve visited, then what does count? To my mind, engaging in any of the following eight activities qualifies you to check a state’s box:

1. Have a drink at a bar. It’s hard to imagine a better way to experience a place than to stop in at a local watering hole, in part because bars are among the few places where you’re allowed or even encouraged to talk to strangers. And even if the place is empty, you can always chat with the bartender.

2. Eat a meal (but not at a chain restaurant). Skip the IHOPs, the Chipotles, and the Applebee’s. Instead, sit down at an independent mom-and-pop place where you can chat with your server, get a feel for the community, and maybe even order a local specialty. That’s a classic way of being somewhere.

3. Spend the night (but corporate chains don’t count). I think most people would agree that if you spend the night in a given state, you have been there. But I would add the stipulation that the roof over your head should be at an independent motel (currently enjoying a resurgence), a B&B, an AirBnB, or some other non-chain outlet. After all, the whole point of a corporate chain is to supply a reliably consistent brand experience no matter where you are, which runs counter to the place-based ethos we’re trying to reinforce here. So spending the night at a Holiday Inn or a Marriott doesn’t check the box, at least for me. Unless you…

4. Have sex. I trust this one is self-explanatory.

5. Have your car break down. Obviously, I don’t wish this on anyone. But while it may not be fun to have to pull over to the side of the road, wait for the tow truck while traffic buzzes by you, and deal with a local mechanic, it’s certainly a place-specific experience that you’ll likely never forget!

6. Have a meaningful conversation with a local resident. Admittedly, this one is very subjective — sort of a “You’ll know it when it happens” kind of thing. And it can happen anywhere! I’ve had meaningful interactions with strangers at rest stops, gas stations, and other unlikely spots.

7. Acquire a meaningful object. Again, a subjective judgment call. The possibilities here are nearly endless: a notable purchase from a local shop, a nice shell or piece of driftwood found on a local beach, even an interesting stray item found on the side of the road. If it becomes a memento or keepsake from your trip, then you were definitely there.

8. Leave something significant behind. One time in the late 1990s, my then-girlfriend A and I were driving through a corner of Iowa, a state she’d never been to before. After about 20 minutes, we were maybe half a mile from the state line, where we’d be crossing over into Minnesota, and A was concerned that she hadn’t done anything to qualify as having been in Iowa. I pulled up at a gas station, thinking we might have a good conversation or make an interesting purchase, but no dice. Then A got an idea: She took out a dollar bill and a pen. Then she wrote a note on the bill — “Here, buy yourself a little treat” — and walked over to a house across the street from the gas station, where she slipped the dollar bill under the front door. We’ll never know what happened to that bill, but it makes for a good story — for me, for A, and I hope for the person who discovered the bill, whose life was briefly changed by all of this. A was there!

So those are my rules. Do they work for you? Are there any additional qualifying activities you’d suggest adding?

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Thanks so much for making the first week of Inconspicuous Consumption so much fun! I’m having a blast, and the comments section suggests that lots of you are enjoying the content as well.

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Paul Lukas has been obsessing over the inconspicuous for most of his life, and has been writing about those obsessions for more than 30 years. You can contact him here.