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For the cake, my mother made a Hungarian chocolate dobos torte. My parents had to custom-build a special box for it so it wouldn’t melt during the six-hour journey to Montauk.
We wanted peacocks strutting around, but they’re apparently the nasty, noisy jerks of the bird world. So we did peacock-flower topiaries instead and hung grass-monkey topiaries from the tent. People loved them so much, four of them were stolen.
My father and I launched from Uihlein’s Marina. My cell phone died at the crucial moment that our director cued our boat; but it all worked out. My dad went off-script when he began making obscene gestures as the boat came into view of the guests. He wore the monkey suit on the boat, and then disrobed to walk me down the aisle.
For the escort-card table, we had windup monkey toys from Pearl River Mart on little surfboards.
We had hot-pink and orange confetti in bags for everyone to throw—but the paper clumped, and it felt like getting pelted by softballs. I wanted the flowers to be ranunculus in those colors, too, but settled on spray roses with berries after hearing the budget. We had seven bridesmaids and six groomsmen, which included our cat, Norman, and our ringbearer: Little Bear, our chowchow.