Last week at the customer site, I told them I planned to visit Biloxi, and see what the gulf coast looks like now, a year after Katrina. I explained that I’d been at Keesler on occasion with the Air Force, and Biloxi held fond memories for me. They told me I’d cry. I said they were probably right, but that I needed to do it.

I left Mobile on Saturday evening, and travelled west on IH-10 to Ocean Springs, just east of Biloxi. Once upon a time, I could have jumped down to US90 at any point along that route and driven along the beach all the way to Biloxi. But the bridge is out across the bay, so you can’t do that now.

My motel was just off IH-10, so that was cool with me. I hooked up with a cyberfriend for dinner, and we had a grand time getting to know each other. By this time it was dark, so there wasn’t really anything to see.

I spent today visiting with my friend, but tonight’s hotel is the Hampton Inn on Beach Blvd. My friend lives north of IH-10, off Route 49. The last time I was in Gulfport, which I’m thinking was 1998, there wasn’t anything north of Route 49. Now there’s a good two miles of commercialization up that way. Just about every chain restaurant you could hope to find, and a good supply of stores, as well.

That was odd enough. But then I left my friend’s place and headed south on 49, towards the coast. Back in ’98, I was here as a civilian contractor, and we stayed at the Hampton Inn there on 49 & IH-10, in Gulfport. I left here that time just a day or so ahead of Hurricane Georges.

And now I’m back, a year after Katrina.

Some stores were gone, heading south on 49, but overall it looked similar to my memories, until I got closer to the beach. Tonight’s motel is up by the casinos, so this gave me a chance to have a nice drive along the beach and see whatever might be there to be seen.

The first thing I noticed were the trees. Or the lack of trees. The palm trees that dotted the road are only 1/2 what they used to be – literally. Every last one of them is snapped off about 8-10 feet above the ground. The beaches were virtually empty, with signs alternating between telling me the beach was closed, and imploring me to stay off the beach so the Least Terns could “nest in peace.”

Looking at the beach, over the peaceful waters, was pleasant. Looking north of the road was a different story.

It’s been over 8 years since I was there, and I’ve never spent a large amount of time in the Gulfport/Biloxi area – the occasional temporary duty for school at Keesler, between ’84 and ’91, and 3 weeks in ’98 as a contractor there. So mostly I was driving along taking note of half-demolished buildings, missing signs, signs without buildings, etc.

I passed street signs, every city block, with nothing to indicate there was a street there, other than the signs. In many cases, sand had drifted across the roads they labelled, begging comparisons to TV-western ghost-towns. Still, I was doing ok, driving along, observing traffic rules, taking note of things to come back and photograph later.

Then I saw it.

Half a sign, in a deserted parking lot across from the beach, on Tegarden Road.

“BACK” read the top line, with “HOUSE” on the bottom.

“OUTBACK STEAKHOUSE,” it used to read, back in 1998 when we’d go there for drinks and dinner after work at the base.

Mark, Marty & I, cruising along in a rented Chevy Blazer, working on the base from 630am to 630pm, usually, hitting the Outback before happy hour ended, getting 2-for-1 drinks with our dinner, then rolling back up 49 to our hotel, to do it again the next day.

Never again, at least not in that particular location. Not only is the Outback no longer there, neither is the building.

Last year’s devastation became real to me today at the intersection of US90 and Tegarden.

And as I drove along slowly, cursing at the effect nature can have on man, I realized the guys at the client site were correct.

They said I would cry.