Yea, I'll take the label: I'm a tourist from California where people won't let you fart on the street unless you have a muffler, so let alone being able to smoke inside, let alone being able to smoke cigars, let alone them being Cuban cigars. Tucked in shirts, guys drinking out of snifters, leather chairs, conversations with faux-importance, and waitresses using the thumb rule for spaghetti dress length of some sort, at least according to my Yes Gents That's My Future Wife With Me Smoking This Cigar With Me Doing Shots Of Tequila.
This very much felt like I was in Chicago. Was that a tourist thing to say? No matter, the Cuban cigar was delicious.