partying like its 1999 sucks for me

So today was Kenny's 21st birthday, so I decided I'd spend the money to call him to congratulate him on the fabulous accomplishment. This was not as simple as it sounds. First, I bought a calling card, figured that was the cheapest way and wouldn't get me bitched at by my parents when they saw my cell phone bill. But since I don't pay for another line besides my cell phone, I tried to use the calling card on this. Well they allowed me to punch in about three hundred buttons before telling me the call could not be completed as dialed. Yeah. FINE. So I was like, screw the calling card. My cell phone then informed me that I wasn't allowed to call out of my range. Whatever the fuck that means. So on campus I went to the Honors Lounge; some douchebags were in there (didnt look like honors material, that's for sure). I went to the writing center. I actually could use their phone--i got to punch in my three hundred buttons again, only to be told I should check the number. At this point i had to go to class. So another few hours later, and now dangerously close to it not being his birthday anymore given the time difference, I finally just called the damn customer service people, who were of course Indians they've outsourced the service to, who speak "English." I finally understood that the 0 Kenny had told me to put in front of the number was only if i was calling from England. So damn it. I finally actually talked to him. I was surprised by this, cause it was like 11:00pm there, and I figured he'd be celebrating. Nope. He was in his room. By himself.
Now, it was nice to be able to talk to him for the thirty minutes or so the phone card deemed I was allowed, but still. This is seriously depressing to me. You only get one 21st birthday. I know the drinking age is 18 in London and he probably went to a bar the night before--but its the principle. Now for the rest of his life if anyone asks him what he did for his 21st birthday, he has to respond "nothing."
I know from experience how much this sucks. My ultimate regret? I spent New Years of 2000 (not Dec. 31st 2000, Dec. 31st 1999, the giant landmark night for centuries to come) sitting in my boyfriend's apartment that didn't have a CLOCK. forget tv. No clock. we had to assume when the new millenium had hit from the din that erupted around albany. SO lame. I'll never get that back, and its the kind of thing people will forever be asking me what I did. Like if you were taking a crap when Kennedy was shot. No one wants that.
All I can say is I'm spending my 21st with Kenny in London. And we'd best be doin something fuckin fun. Retarded drunk on the London Eye perhaps? How late's that shit open?