Taxis in Paris

(I recently told this story at work and realized that I'd never blogged about it.)

A few years ago I won a trip to Paris through my work. The trip was incredible and far too brief. I'd always heard that the people in Paris are rude but that wasn't my experience. No one laughed at my high school French. Or my American fashion sense. Or my Fearful Traveler Document pack that I wore everywhere and was afraid to leave in the hotel room.
They were all very nice but one guy really took the gateau. A group of us were at one of the sponsoring hotels for dinner. We split up and made our way back to our own hotel so we could get ready to go out for the night. I was with one other lady. After a quick search, we couldn't find a Metro station nearby. So we decided to take a cab.
Paris has little taxi stands placed here and there. The cabs queue up and take their fares hither and yon. We found a stand and climbed in. I tried out my French and asked the driver to go to our hotel, near the Eiffel tower. He seemed uncertain but gamely made his way toward that part of the city. Halfway there we realized that this wasn't a taxi.
That's right! This guy pulled over to the curb and two crazy Americans climbed into the back of his car. We apologized and apologized but he didn't seem too upset. He tried to refuse payment but we forced the money on him. No harm done.
I think about this from time to time. What if I was driving downtown and a German couple with limited English skills climbed into the back seat of my car and asked to be taken somewhere? I'd have to take them, wouldn't I?