You can ride the airport circulator to the next terminal.

No one squealed, even though all saw Andrew unleash his poor imitation of a Brazilian Banana shot forty-five degrees away from its intended target.

They worked together on their father's patch: desperately, hungrily, from dawn to nightfall; dragging up dulse from the shore to nourish the stones; … but nothing much grew except their own sense of separation.

[…] some headstrong Maroons were using a soldier of Captain Craskell’s ill, and compelling him to write to his commander, that it was too late to do any thing good, and that they wanted nothing, having got plenty of powder and ball […]