There are milestones to mark a woman’s life. Engagement. Wedding. Baby. Dreaded 40th birthday. I did not have the first three, so nary a family celebration had been held in my honour since I graduated high school. All I had was a missing space in the family hall of photos (marriage and children were prerequisites) and a looming 40th birthday that screamed “Halfway to Death!”

Society was in cahoots with my family. Where was the card that proclaimed in pink letters Congratulations! You didn’t marry the wrong guy! Divorce is painful, expensive, and one of life’s top three stressors. I had not yet found my one and only, but I had spared myself the grief of making a bad decision.

Among my family alone, I’ve taken part in over 150 celebrations: bridal showers, engagement parties, wedding ceremonies, receptions, baby showers, births, and birthday parties for nephews, nieces, and second cousins. I figured I had a lot of catching up to do in the celebration department, being single and childless, so I sent out an invite to six women—four sisters and two female cousins whose traditional milestones I’d faithfully celebrated over the past 20 years—for a four-day weekend in Vegas. If there was a city known for celebrating, Vegas was it. It would be my (non) engagement party, (non) wedding shower, (non) wedding, (non) baby shower, “Congratulations! You didn’t marry the wrong guy!” 40th-birthday party.

At a family get-together, all the sisters and corresponding brothers-in-law gathered around the kitchen table to discuss the upcoming trip.

“Are you buying clothes for Vegas?” asked Sister Number Five. (I am the fourth of five sisters.)

“What do you mean?” I replied. I needed special clothes for Vegas?

She thumbed through the magazine she was skimming until she found a photo of a scantily clad woman that left nothing to the imagination.

“You mean skanky?”

“You’ll spend a fortune on drinks,” said Brother-in-law Number Two.

“Super expensive,” chimed in Brother-in-law Number Five. When he saw my look of disbelief he added, “Trust me, you’re all too old for men to offer to buy you drinks.”

Ouch.

Presumably, the brothers-in-law were jealous, but the sisters agreed that things would be pricey. Not only was I the sole marriage virgin, I was the only Vegas virgin as well. I had no idea what to expect. Would Vegas give me the life celebration I needed?

Dinner the first night out is tame, with a few margaritas at a hotel on the Strip. I would tell you which hotel if I remembered, but honestly, it really doesn’t matter. They’re all done up in grandiose design—Paris! Venice! roller coasters and fountains—and you could spend the whole weekend visiting them, but one spectacle is as good as the next. On our way out, someone gives Sister Number One a fistful of complimentary tickets to a club at another hotel.

On our second night, we see the Cirque du Soleil show Love at the Mirage Hotel. Afterwards, oohing and aahing, we all agree it is spectacular. We head out into the hotel lobby, where, lo and behold, is the club for which we have complimentary tickets. Only they aren’t just for entry, but for drinks until midnight! Who said it would cost a fortune for a round of drinks at a club?

I come from a family of lushes, not alcoholics. (We can handle our liquor.) So, we are not worried to discover after a few hours of dancing that Sister Number Five is missing, but perhaps it’s time for some fresh air and regrouping.

Outside the club, the lobby is full of cigarette smoke, slot machines, and blackjack tables, which is where we find her, high on the adrenaline of gambling through other people’s money. When the man who has foolishly been taking her advice calls it quits, she asks us to lend her a 20 to make a bet herself. Then another. And another, before we cut her off.

Eating good food—and lots of it—should be the top priority on any respectable trip to Vegas, so our last night finds us in a two-hour lineup at the Bellagio buffet, which is on many not-to-miss lists for its scrumptious food and array of choices. A group of men in front of us join in our conversation and later join us for dinner. The handsome 30-something turns out to be the lone single in his group and after we get to chatting, Sister Number One—the eldest, I might point out—asks me, “Does he know you’re now 40?”

So did Handsome Single Man and I make out? Well, I’ve seen the commercials too. What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.

It’s at the airport heading back, as the sisters busily buy their husbands their preferred beverages in the duty-free store, that Sister Number Five realizes out loud they’ve forgotten to sing me “Happy Birthday”.

Back home at the next family dinner, while my four sisters and corresponding brothers-in-law make did I or didn’t I guesses in the kitchen, I am in the living room being sung to, on request, by nine members of the next generation.

Vegas satisfied the need for a big old party, but thank goodness for young nieces and nephews who know that a proper singing of “Happy Birthday” is what’s crucial when it’s your turn to celebrate.

ACCESS: A variety of airlines, including Air Canada (aircanada.ca) and Westjet (westjet.ca), offer direct flights from Vancouver to Vegas. Allegiant Air (allegiantair.com) offers both flights and hotel packages from Bellingham.