I hardly ever go to Paris. but recently, my son was stranded at the Gare du Nord in the strikes on his way down to see me; he knew this was going to be the case before he arrived and phoned me to ask if I could pick him up. "Why not?" I thought [dumb]. It took a while to get there by car through strike-ridden, traffic-jammed Paris, but when I was off the BP and asking directions [satnav technology has passed me by] I met with unfailing politeness and good humour: the last direction I got from a back-packing, hiking Parisian trying to get home was "Oh, turn left down there and you'll get to the back of the station; it's one-way but no-one will bother today!" When I got to the back of the Gare du Nord I had to pull up and phone my son, who was at the front. The taxi rank seemed the right place. "You can't park there, you'll block us in," I was told by a cabbie. "Where can I park then?" "On the pavement, like everyone else!" I made my call, met up with my son and got back to the BP using the bus and taxi lanes almost exclusively. Again, no road rage, just give and take from everyone in the same boat.
Parisians are OK by me!