DEAR ABBY: Can you stand one more letter about crazy wedding nights? My mother and dad have repeated this story often. Dad had relied on close friends to reserve the bridal suite in the Mallory -- a lovely old residential hotel in Portland, Ore. As it turned out, the friends didn't think it was necessary to make reservations, so they didn't bother. Well, as luck would have it, there was a plumbers' convention in town that week and, needless to say, every hotel was filled to capacity.
The manager of the Mallory was gracious enough to find them a place to sleep for the night. The first "room" they were offered was a closet under the stairs with no ventilation. The second option was the Women's Lounge located on the main floor of the hotel right off the lobby. They chose the lounge.
The management brought in two roll-away beds and hung a "CLOSED" sign on the door. Dad said he unscrewed hundreds of light bulbs from around the vanity mirrors because he couldn't find the light switch to turn them off.
My folks said there were about eight toilets in the room, and they never used the same one twice.
All night long women were knocking on their door -- trying to get in to use the restroom. They didn't get much sleep, but they had a lot of laughs and made the best of the situation.
Their union produced five children, and lasted until mother's death six months ago -- one month short of their 44th anniversary.
Dad's name is Leo Kacena. Mother's name was June. I'm their daughter. -- JOY SPRINGER, BELLFLOWER, CALIF.