Remember how you feel when you receive what turns out to be an incredibly disappointing gift? One of those that seems to promise so much and turns out to be, well, just disappointing?

That’s what I received yesterday courtesy of Bishop Museum.

For weeks, I’ve been looking forward to the members reception in advance of the public opening of the newly restored Hawaiian Hall exhibits at the museum.

I had a special interest because, I’m told, two of my photos are included in an exhibit concerning the modern Hawaiian renaissance. Not a huge thing but something to check out during the big grand opening.

Okay. I admit it. I screwed up and forgot to grab the invitation when we headed into town yesterday morning. But I wasn’t too worried because I had received two different email confirmations of my RSVP, including one from the museum’s director of membership services and individual giving. I was sure we would be on the list.

But it doesn’t pay to get too cocky. When we arrived at the museum, parked the car on the grass spillover area behind the parking lot, and walked up to the entry, our names weren’t on the list. It turned out there were staggered entry times, something that wasn’t clear on the invitation, and I recalled our invite was for the 5-6 p.m. hour. Nope, not on that list. How about the 6 p.m. entry? Nope, not there either. The folks staffing the table controlling admission looked on several lists and didn’t find our names.

“I can’t let you in now,” the polite young man said.

Then we were told that we could be admitted, but would have to wait for about an hour.

What can you do? I didn’t see any sense in making a scene, although I was sure that we were supposed to be on the list for that 5 p.m. entry. When we got home, I confirmed that the invitation was indeed for 5-6 p.m., as I thought, but it was too late to do any good. I’ve been on the other side of the table in situations like that and I knew there just wasn’t much of anything to be done standing there at the entrance. We could wait, or we could leave.

So we left. Back down the sidewalk, through the parking lot to the car, the short walk wrapped in disappointment. Checking out the photos at some later date won’t be the same as being there on opening night, but so it goes.

Instead of a trip through Hawaiian history, we stopped at the Safeway in Kaneohe for a few things and then headed home, fed the cats, opened a bottle of wine, made salmon burgers and Meda’s cole slaw for dinner, and talked about the approaching storm.