When I stepped off the plane at Louis Armstrong Airport, the first thing I did was find the closest exit. I wanted a whiff of Louisiana air. After months in the New York winter, the luscious swamp air practically danced around my nose. I was traveling with my mother and 19-year-old sister. In December, I had won two round-trip tickets on Southwest Airlines in a raffle for charity, and decided to share my luck with my mother. New Orleans was a city she had always wanted to visit, but hadn’t; I had been there several times during my college years, but had stuck mostly to the French Quarter. We made arrangements for mid-March in order to include my sister during her spring break week.