kfitz

Marcus

A quick story from the France trip that I’ve been looking forward to telling, but hadn’t quite found the right moment for:

I took the TGV back up from Tours to Paris, as it turned out, with the organizer of the conference I’d just attended, as well as another attendee. We chatted on the train, and then, disembarking at Montparnasse, discovered that we were all taking the same Métro line on to our next destinations.

Walking through the maze of the Montparnasse Métro station, Éric (the conference organizer) said how sorry he was that I didn’t really get to do anything in Paris during my trip, since I spent the majority of my time in Tours.

“Actually,” I told him, “the night I arrived, my friend Marcus had a vernissage for a new group show he’s in, and –”

Éric stopped dead in his tracks.

“You know Marcus McAllister?”

Yep. My college roommate, and my roommate once again in New York. My best old late-night meaning-of-life debating pal. The guy who once went with me to a Halloween party, for which he dressed as me dressed as him, and I dressed as him dressed as me. (We were both wearing bluejeans, white t-shirts, and old sport coats. It seemed pretty funny at the time.) That Marcus.

I always knew that kid was going places.

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