
Set off on a standard hash, with a short but strenuous leg to get folks warmed up. Then hit beer stop 1, perhaps a secluded alley behind a Laotian grocery store (yes, we have Laotians in Nashville, and Kurds, but the latter don't seem to have their own beer). 
Sometimes it is a stretch. One time we thought about looking for a bakery for beer from Denmark (Danish pastries, get it?) but there wasn't one around. So we had Tuborg near a Saab auto repair shop, because Sweden is near Denmark. Another time we had Peroni Italian beer near a TV station with a Greek anchor woman, because Italy hangs down into the Mediterranean just like Greece does. So there.