A bore. The best part of this experience was the view out the window and for the price, I should have been front row to see dancers at the Moulin Rouge. Our server was a self-absorbed 20-something effete Gallic snob who was there for the tip (that I gradually shrank every time I sensed a snub). The Beouf Bourgeonian was absolutely boring, and the Steak Frites (two orders) was a tough cut of tendon-laden meat that came to the table cold and unseasoned, with a pile of limp string potatoes that may have been fried the day before. There were portions that even the serrated knife couldn't get through and were left on the plate. The chef recommended Pinot Noir was an acidic liquid sandpaper that, almost gratefully, lingered far longer than The waiter stopped by once to refill our water glasses and otherwise ignore the looks of displeasure on our faces. The highlight was the dessert (included with the meal plan), a nicely crusted creme brulee, but for more than $300 plus an abbreviated tip, this should have been magnifique, not mundane.
Visiting France? Take a plane, not a shuttle bus. Avoid it.