Here I have Belgian gnome-happy La Chouffe, Doghead Fish Brewery (and there truly bizarre Midas Touch), crazy wood-fairy brew from Amsterdam and something Norwegian called the Celebrator (so much friendlier than the German beers) plus some Peroni La Rossa which you can't see.
At the Foodery, my beer-drinking wonder was indulged and without realizing it I was traipsing giddily from freezer door to freezer door nabbing beers for my eco-friendly, recycled six-pack carton.
In the checkout line, where I pay attention to the commercial behavior of fellow patrons*, the girl in front of me had a Zima(!) and a pint of Haagen Dazs. Weird. Then I was on the spot and paid for my little trip around the world by crashing hard on the truth of my life in Philly and here you buy beer at blue, state-liquor-law prices which effectively means even your PBR is pricey. So, throw in transportation costs, pirate insurance and international tariffs on these imports and you have a six pack that checked in at $7 per bottle. Jeebus.
*This is ready-made fun for you fellow students of humanity's oddness. Sort of in the way of studying people in traffic who mistakenly believe they aren't plainly out in public, you get astonishingly honest confessions of truth, taste and weakness on display in the things people choose to buy. For example, at work the other day, I was behind a woman who checked-out with something she custom-made at the salad-bar and which I'm now referring to as the Ultimate Salad: hard-boiled egg crumbles, pepperoni slices, and shredded cheddar cheese. Amazing!