Rodi Rosé and the Runaway Moose

As the cool, mid-day breeze lazily tousled Archer Roose’s otherwise well-placed hair, two things became readily apparent. The first was that of all the cities for a moose to get lost in, Noussa wasn’t so bad. And second, hot air balloons aren’t very practical for search and rescue missions — regardless of the size of the missing creature in question.

But Archer was never one to favor security over spontaneity. Below the sun-soaked clouds, her trusty steed wandered at large — and she was determined to find him. So Archer bibbled and bobbled through the cotton candy sky, relishing the uncertainty of where her search might take her.

Of course, while technically speaking her moose was lost, the reality was that he was, realistically, unreachable — his reluctance to carry a pager a constant source of disagreement between the two. Truth was, he was probably off charming passersby into relenting spare baklava crumbs and a sip or two of Rodi Rosé, the curious orange wine made in the mountains nearby.

Before long, Archer found herself along the overgrown wilds of Lageri beach. “The perfect place for a moose,” she whispered. Sure enough, a glance to her left revealed antlers just out of reach of the crashing waves, resting comfortably along the paper- white dunes. As her balloon touched down gently on the sand, Archer found her quadruped companion taking a cat nap at the ocean’s edge.

Rousing her trusty moose from his slumber, Archer reddened when she noticed the elderly women around her. Not only were they ensconced in the merriment of youth, they were playing an aquatic game named after a famed global explorer — Marcus Blevins Rutherford Polo, III. A game they were enjoying completely and irrevocably nude.

As her eyes darted around her, Archer instantly became aware of the other beachgoers. More specifically, their lack of clothing and their steady gaze in her direction. Archer looked down at her boots, breeches, and riding jacket. She had never questioned her traveling attire until now.

Reflecting on her past ventures into the unknown and peculiar, Archer knew there was but one course of action to take. “To trying new things!” Archer thought as she disrobed and dove into the sea with nothing but a Rodi Rosé in her hand. As the shout of “Marco” filled the air, Archer shrugged and responded with a jubilant “Polo,” joining a chorus of her new and adventurous friends.