I love the scene in Cinema Paradiso when Alfredo, the projectionist, tells his protégé, "Life isn't like in the movies. Life is much harder." While I can see how this was true in small-town Sicily during the 1940s, I think the more fitting line for my generation would be "Life isn't like in the movies. Life is much less interesting."

Except, of course, for those seminal moments that take on blockbuster proportions. Like when I first saw my future husband, Stephen, on a Friday night at the information booth in Grand Central Station during rush hour. Our eyes met through a sea of people and, yes, just like on the silver screen, it was love at first sight. For the first time ever, my real life slipped into reel life.

Fast-forward three years—I was nursing Stephen's soccer-induced broken nose and dented spirit when (face cast and all) he asked me to be his wife. Can you say HBO special? As we began planning and fantasizing about our wedding, I couldn't help wondering which classic movie our big day would most resemble. While the cast was all set, the genre wasn't so clear. Film noir? Romantic comedy? Period piece? Horror flick? And what about a set?

Because we live more than 2,000 miles from where either of us grew up, we decided to have a destination wedding and invite our families and close friends. We liked this plan because it meant no one had to play host, and everyone got to be a guest. And we decided two things up front when we began planning our October 2004 wedding: The setting needed to be so spectacular that no one could complain about (or even remember) the inevitable flight delays, the cost of the plane tickets, or the days taken off work. And since our group ranged in age from one to 74, the place had to be fun for all.

We auditioned countless destinations: old inns in Northern California and Vermont, B&Bs on Block Island, a resort on Cumberland Island, ranches in Montana, lodges in Wyoming, even a sailboat to charter around the Caribbean. After four months of research, we found the spot—Dunton Hot Springs, a ghost-town-turned-luxury-wilderness-resort in the San Juan Mountains outside Telluride. We were thinking Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid meets Bonnie and Clyde, but without anybody dying in the end.