I remember the first time I stepped off a plane in Phoenix on a business trip.
It was around this time of year.
I had no idea what the temperature was—but we had to walk out on the tarmac from that flight.
The only way I could describe it was that it felt like my entire body had been stuck in a wood stove.
The tarmac was probably 200deg.
Ditto experience in Phoenix airport. I thought I had walked into my kitchen oven.