A friend of a friend won a prize at bingo but couldn’t afford to take advantage of it so she sold it to me for cheap. That’s how Brenda and I found ourselves bound for Mississippi for a mid-winter getaway. It was warm on the Gulf Coast. Not bathing suit warm but at least walking comfortably on the beach in the sun warm. 

Overall, I would call Biloxi sad. Maybe not if you’ve never been there so you don’t compare then to now. There are several casinos and some new condo complexes on the gulf road and, of course, those beautiful, endless stretches of white sand. If you like having miles of beach all to yourself, now is the time to go. But I couldn’t help recalling earlier times when the gulf road was lined with magnificent, historic old homes, houses that had stood for a century or two, one right after another. Now, where they used to be there are empty lots with the broken trunks of live oak trees and gaping foundations to mark what once was and, more often than not, “for sale” signs out front. Stretching out into the water are long lines of broken pier pilings. 

The area seems to be making a very slow comeback. Maybe if it hadn’t been for the economy tanking, they would be farther along than they are.

It is still a pleasant and cheap place to go, though, when winter has Indiana tightly in its grasp. It is pleasant enough for sightseeing and beach walking and golfing and fishing.

The hotel rates are low and the slots in the casinos are loose. Not enough so that you actually win in the end, unless you’re lucky enough to hit a jackpot, but enough so that you can spend two days there and come out less than $200 behind.

We ate at Mary Mahoney’s, a French restaurant which thankfully, though heavily damaged, was salvageable after Katrina. It is one of the oldest buildings in Biloxi, pre-Civil War, with a 2,000-year-old live oak, named the Patriarch, in its outdoor dining room. Mary Mahoney’s is where anyone famous who stops in Biloxi eats. I recommend the Crab & Shrimp Au Gratin — crab and shrimp and angel hair pasta baked in a crusty golden cheese, delicious.

From Biloxi, we went along the gulf and across the long causeway to New Orleans. We went straight to the French Quarter, bypassing any of the Katrina-damaged sections of the city. The French Quarter is as it ever was — colorful and raucous and happy. In fact, New Orleans was especially happy because the Saints had just won their playoff and were heading to the Super Bowl. Usually, at this time of year, the city is decorated in the purples and golds and greens of Mardi Gras. Ribbons wind through intricate wrought-iron railings and elaborate wreaths adorn doors and Mardi Gras masks are everywhere, but in 2010, Mardi Gras had to share space equally with football stuff.

A man told us that he was in a taxi coming from the airport as the game ended. He said he suddenly heard a giant roar and people started spilling out of the shops and restaurants and bars until the streets were full of hugging, kissing, cheering, dancing revelers. Whenever we told anyone we were from Indiana, they begged us to let them win the Super Bowl — “you all won it three years ago, and after what this city has been through, we need to win!”

They were so heartfelt, they almost convinced me, although I know my son would send an assassin for me if he ever found out I wasn’t rooting for the Colts.

On the day we were there, we sat outside at the Café du Mond drinking café au lait and eating beignets, wearing light jackets. The sun shone bright (if it sounds like I’m obsessed about seeing sunshine, you’re right), and we could hear the sounds of “When the Saints Go Marching In” coming from the band playing on the edge of Jackson Square. Winter seemed forever away.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t. As we headed home, we watched the temperature gauge on the car go from 60 to 50 to 40 to 30 to 20. When we hit the Indiana line, it was reading 17 degrees. By the time we got to Wabash County, it was snow and 14 degrees.

If I were young, I’d move to that part of the Gulf Coast for the opportunity that’s bound to come. People will calculate the odds and gamble against another mega-hurricane for the allure of living near Big Water. All the empty lots will fill with homes and hotels and restaurants. I predict that 20 years from now, it will be as if Katrina never happened and those who got in at the beginning of the comeback will prosper from the dollars of people like me, who just want a place to come in from the cold for a few days.

• Vicki Williams is a columnist for the Pharos-Tribune. She can be reached through the newspaper at ptnews@pharostribune.com.