I've been weiner-tagged.

Matt Weiner tagged me with the following: post your visited states map and give a one-sentence anecdote for each state you've visited. Drivethroughs count. Matt did it using just verb phrases, but that's the sort of shenanigans you get from a guy who teaches philosophy of language. I'm not capable of such terseness, but I haven't traveled much west of the Mississippi River, so it might still be fewer words overall. Anyhow, the states in red are the ones I've graced with my presence.

Here goes.

Alabama - I was there last Thanksgiving for the first time since my father's funeral in 1987.
Connecticut - The framed poster in the elevator, touting the hotel's restaurant, had the most unappetizing picture of a steak imaginable, so we stole it.
DC - At eighteen, I ended up hung over and barefoot, wandering through a terrible part of DC, asking bums how to get back to the Days Inn.
Delaware - Interstate 95 runs through Delaware almost long enough to notice that you're in Delaware.
Florida - The large number of pictures of me clutching my five-year-old willy, coupled with the vague memory of peeing in a back corner of the little elf house, makes me wonder: how difficult could it be to find a bathroom at Busch Gardens?
Georgia - Georgia state troopers are jerks.
Kentucky - I was born in Louisville at a svelte ten and a half pounds, but we moved when I was three, so not many memories to recount.
Louisiana - I am not the first man who has been pushed down a flight of stairs by the ghost of the little girl who lives in Andi's French Quarter apartment, but I was the first one to take out my wife on the way down.
Maryland - A vanload of college students lost in the slums of Baltimore is an extremely uneasy vanload of college students.
Massachusetts - After flying from Rome to London, then across the Atlantic, those two hours in the Boston airport before we could board the tiny, smelly plane back to Carolina sucked.
Michigan - A very drunk, very old, very Greek relative of my first wife noted my Irish appearance and asked in a slurred shout, "Have you seen the Riverdance?"
Mississippi - You have to cross many bridges in this state to get to Louisiana, and that's really my only interaction with it.
Nevada - If you drink less, you'll make fewer passes at your coworkers that you'll regret later, since not everything that happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.
New Jersey - They don't allow you to pump your own gas in New Jersey, and this is terribly confusing the first time through.
New York - I've only spent four hours in New York City—flew in on a private jet, followed a tall, blonde, young woman from our British office around while she shopped, ate a huge and ridiculously cheap lunch at an Irish pub, then flew back out.
North Carolina - After 34 years here, I could see living somewhere else for a while, but I'd definitely come back here to die.
Ohio - Don't pee on electric fences.
Oregon - Cheese curds squeak when you bite them, and I find that unsettling.
Pennsylvania - Froz and I camped in a public park in Philadelphia after a Grateful Dead show and woke up just a few yards from a dead body.
South Carolina - Even though you know better, the urge to poke an alligator with a stick is a powerful urge indeed.
Tennessee - When I was thirteen, I spent a week in the mountains of Tennessee with Habitat for Humanity, discovering that urban and rural poverty are vastly different creatures.
Texas - I hear there's a whole lot of Texas beyond the Dallas airport, but I haven't seen it.
Virginia - Natural Bridge is pretty swank, but the big "light show" they do on it at night, while reading Genesis over the loudspeakers, is the most boring shit you'll ever sit through (and my son will totally back me up on this).
West Virginia - I pulled off the highway and had sex behind a church.

And since I'll get hit by falling space debris if I don't pass this along within 48 hours of receiving it, I'm tagging McManlyPants, No Platform Jimmy, and Froz ('cause you don't post enough, Smacky).