Three and a half years ago, I was just a guy sitting in a bar, telling a Northern Star reporter how great it would be to write about movies for Weekender. As of today, I’ve reviewed more than 75 films, been to a junket in Los Angeles and interviewed the likes of Mandy Moore, Colm Meany and Richard Donner.

But the real thrill of my tenure at Star occurred in October 2003. We received an invite to an advanced screening of “Kill Bill” in downtown Chicago.

Stepping off the elevator of this small, raggedy office building was a small theater – equipped with about 50 seats and a screen perfectly constructed for the room’s quaint size. I took a seat in the far left corner of the theater, my favorite seat. At that point, I was approached by a publicist.

“Excuse me, I’m going to have to ask you to move. Roger’s going to be coming,” she said politely.

Naturally, my eyebrows raised in confusion.

“Roger Ebert,” she clarified.

I did what any good aspiring college critic would have done. I moved over one seat.

“Chaz might be coming also,” she added.

Eyebrows again.

“His wife,” she said.

To avoid more attention, I moved as far away as possible. To this day, I’m not sure if Roger was at that screening – but there would be plenty of future run-ins at the screening room and conversations I will never forget.

That’s not to mention the run-ins with the general public at the local multiplex. At a screening of “Boogeyman,” I encountered a woman with a screaming baby who was so perturbed by the infant’s fear of the bloody murder on-screen. Or who could forget the man who sat next to me during a screening of “Barbershop”? He took a call on his cell phone while remaining in the theater. After a five-minute conversation, he leaned over and asked me, “Dude, what just happened?”

Now I have always told myself that I would never be “that guy” who writes a farewell column. But in the past few days, I’ve found it unavoidable.

My future lies in a theater. Like many of you, I’ll be lining up this summer to see “War of the Worlds” and “Star Wars: Episode III” (please don’t suck). Movies, as sad as it is to say, have been my life for some time. I can always remember dates of past events by what was at the theater during that time. And I’m not changing anytime soon.

To each of you who took the time to send me an e-mail – especially those who sent the rare positive responses – my enduring gratitude. And for each of you reading this asking who the hell is Marcus Leshock – you are all my heroes.

After six years at NIU, I’ve seen DeKalb become a retail paradise/nightmare and various people come and go. But some things will always be constant. Keanu Reeves will always suck, Ebert will always be “getting too soft,” and I will always wish I had the nerve to do everything in my life just a little bit sooner.

It’s been long, it’s been memorable, and most of all, it’s been fun.