Several years ago, I took a flight from Germany to visit my sister Rose in New Orleans for the annual Mardi Gras, a cultural and traditional celebration in Louisiana and other parts of the South. I was relieved when the plane touched down at Louis Armstrong Airport. Although the 9-hour flight had made me tired, all I wanted to do after seeing my sister was hit the sack.

As the jet taxied down the runway, an unbearable heat swept through the cabin in seconds. I felt as if I was trapped in a sauna in...