When we got to Lansing it was too late to do anything like shop for beer. We had a hotel pool to cannonball into, then a supper to find as well as a baseball game to attend. The tickets seven rows back of home were nine bucks, my Two Hearted Ale was four-fifty with dinner and huge mug of Miller at the game was six. It was all good. The Miller was perfect on a hot hot evening, sweet corn and grainy barley with none of the off tastes like boiled veg and damp cardboard that too many of the basic macro brews get labeled with. Cooling with no bothersome strength to speak of. A craft beer would be spoiled by the temperature that I wanted with this stinking mid-western humidity.