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The Wildlife Conservation Society's Gala Exhibited Lemurs and Tommy Bahama

After a night out at the Central Park Zoo, I\'ve decided I\'d rather live in the Rain Forest House than in mine.

A ball python for guests amusement at the Wildlife Conservation Society's gala.
A ball python for guests amusement at the Wildlife Conservation Society's gala.
Photo: Suzanne Bolduc ©WCS

I believe in supporting wildlife, and I like animals too, so a chance to attend the Central Park Zoo for the Wildlife Conservation Society’s “Tropics in February” party appealed to me. 

On the bitter, cold, six-block walk from Bloomingdale's on Thursday night, it was easy to miss the eight-inch sign pointing to the zoo in the dark. Gals in party dresses had to tip me off, and there were two attendants pointing the way, but I still could have done with a lantern or two.

Once inside, the tropics theme was visually and physically apparent. The Tropical Animal House—the space was brimming with furry and slithering beings, lush green plants, and 80-degree temperatures. Guys doffed their jackets, and girls had an excuse to wear their skimpiest outfits.

If you all want to start the party right, follow the society’s lead and bring Tommy Bahama Rum onboard as your sponsor. I don’t really love rum, but that didn’t stop me from having two of the white rum, lemon juice, and simple syrup cocktails, served niftily in mini branded martini glasses at the entrance. A splash of soda would have been nice, but who’s quibbling? Tommy Bahama’s simple sponsorship was highlighted just so. There were bottle glorifiers (you know, those little stands with the lights), the aforementioned rum shooters, and another neat party trick on the bars: They placed branded votives inside larger frosted vases, creating a gobo-style projection that danced and quivered with the flame.

I’m sorry to say that 360 “eco-friendly” Vodka’s showing paled by comparison. Although there was nothing wrong with the attractive framed drink recipes, and their idea of ceramic/wire stoppers to make the bottles reusable is actually a clever, legitimate one (unlike some other eco-friendly fraudsters I’ve come across recently), I had signed on to rum for the night and there was no going back (except to the mini tray).

Okay, let’s talk about the zoo. Sometimes I feel guilty loving zoos, you know, taking the animals out of their native habitats and putting them in cages, but let me just say I would rather live in the Central Park Zoo’s Tropical House than in mine. It’s one of those mod places where you’re not sure where the exhibit ends and the people places start. At first you feel like you’re at a garden supply store … where are all the animals? But then they literally come out of the woodwork. Two large royal blue birds flapped around the whole joint willy-nilly, while a 30-pound white and black catfish splashed vigorously nearby. There was an ant colony, but really who cares when right next door is the bat cave? And it was a cave all right, filled with tons of bats that flew around freakishly nonstop. The bartender annoyingly told every guest that they started flying when he gave them booze. I hate bartender jokes, don’t you?

The top attraction was six Madagascar lemurs (one alpha female and her six slaves, whoopee for her), which despite the movie tie-in seemed a little lethargic. A handler circled with a large python that you could interact with if you’re into that kind of thing—which I am not.

You can call the zoo’s lovely event booker, Lillian Valentin, for New York Aquarium events—which I plan to do—in addition to the rain-forest venue. This particular site holds 175 (the night was sold out), and has two levels and a built in sound system. The all-inclusive site rental is $9,200, and the space flows well, but you can’t really build a stage. If you want to give a toast, you need to use hard-wired mikes; a Lavalier won’t work. If you want entertainment besides the animals, you can hire Dennis Kyriakos, a magician who wandered around last night. Kyriakos did mind-boggling card tricks, but had to keep his coat on (their coats have all those fancy pockets). He’s an extra $1,500, minimum. Do you believe in magic?

Great Performances did the catering ably, incorporating mangoes and fruit into the menu, but it wasn’t their best work. Although eatable, chicken and surprisingly properly cooked salmon skewers reminded me of how much I hate skewers. Pulled pork on polenta was too tiny for me. And one rice-cakey item that served as a base reminded me of a dentist appointment today. But waiters circulated quickly with a wide variety. (I counted at least six different items.) 

Back outside in the bone chilling wind, one dumb and dumberer paparazzi asked me if this was a Fashion Week event. “No, thank God,” I muttered, and stepped off into the dark night.

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