Posted by: Debbie Abrams Kaplan | November 24, 2009

Driving on the Highway to Hell

Here’s how you get to the Costco that sells alcohol  (the closest one to us does not – damn them):

Turn on Garmin Nuvi and try entering 2210 Rt-27 on the screen. It won’t work.

Try entering US Highway 27. It won’t work.

In a moment of brilliance, try entering State Highway 27, and BINGO, you’re in. (You have to go through this drill while entering Highway 22 also – no wonder I’m always late).

Take CR 613 to the Garden State Parkway. (Insert “take exit” joke here). Take exit 131 for NJ-27 toward Iselin/Rahway/Metuchen (yes, three different towns).

Turn right at NJ-27 South. This road has a regular name too. Your Garmin Nuvi won’t know it though, and you might think you’re no longer on NJ-27 South.

Make a few more turns (won’t bore you with those details), and then the Nuvi tells you you’re there. Only Costco is across the street and you can’t make a left turn. So you can turn illegally and risk a ticket, or look for a jug handle.

Have you heard of a jug handle? If you’re in New Jersey you have. Make a right turn that curves around so you can cross the street. But you can’t find one, so turn left illegally and hope cops aren’t near by.

Now you’re on NJ-27 North – stay there until you enter Costco parking lot. Head straight to the liquor area and start drinking.


  1. But did you have to pay a toll?

  2. This is exactly why I’m never moving off the Peninsula.

  3. Haha! Right on! I understand completely! I will never get used to the NJ divided highways. What a pain. I avoid them like the plague, but they are unavoidable. And then there are the traffic circles, and the potholes, and the constant threat of wayward deer.

  4. Oh dear, I am having a PTSD moment here, remembering a day in which I tried to drive from some rural NJ town to Elizabeth and go shopping at IKEA without driving on a toll road (because I’m West Coast! We don’t pay tolls for our roads except through insane property taxes! I’ll show you, New Jersey!).

    I would make a lame IKEA assembly joke here, but I’m too busy shivering and crying. Let’s say I saw the less-savory side of Elizabeth, and pulled over at a police station. The fine men in blue laughed at me, then sent me on the way, back to the rural town. Never did find the IKEA.

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