I absolutely had to listen to my near-defunct best of Billy Joel cassette tape today as I cruised north on Lakeshore Drive. Back in the good ole' US of A, I needed to infuse myself with a dose of the most American music I know. (Since it haunts me and my family to hear Bruce Springsteen on that road, I turned to my dearest Billy instead.)

I returned from my lovely twelve day stint in Paris with the alacrity of one who knows she has taken the city by storm. Unfortunately, I couldn't shake the habit of merci-ing everyone who held a door for me or stamped my passport, nor could I avail myself of the sense that it was 4 a.m. when in reality, it was 8 p.m.

Listening to Billy was just a part of an effort to help me reorient myself to my surroundings.

My loud, oddly dressed American self got bitchslapped by a crash course in French culture and tradition. And as a result, even though I was only there for a week and a half, I found myself with slightly altered habits as I traipsed the streets of l'ile de France.

Brazen Americans with their teenaged sensibilities meet introverted yet le playfully argumentative francaise--ooh la la, mon dieu. They'll turn you into a bone-thin, baguette- eating, expresso-drinking, smoker before you can say sacre-bleu!

The general consensus is that the French are rude and hate Americans, right? Do myself and yourself a favor and quit that bullshit, please. Until you've seen the city of lights, curb your prideful American egocentrism.

As one of our seminar speakers tried to hammer home, we are two societies established on similar principles of enlightenment and revolution. We look the same, but we sure don't think the same!

Imagine how you--a decent, honest citizen with intense pride in your country, customs and language--would feel if loud, obnoxious and ignorant twits trod all over the flowers in your front lawn? I don't know about anyone else, but I would sure have trouble respecting those people.

Don't feed the stereotype, my fellow Americans. It only makes us look worse. No wonder French people don't smile back at us.

Allors, ecoutez-moi--next time you're in France, make at least a half-assed effort to speak a little French and keep your voice down. You don't have anything to prove to the French and you would just be insulting them in their own house.

And you can go back to the old American way when you are back in your own yard, blasting Billy Joel.