T A B L E_T A L K What's the best way to visit Mexico? Debate cruises vs. driving vs. package deals in the Wanderlust area of Table Talk ___________________ Soak up a little ambiance Parisienne at barnesandnoble.com ___________________   R E C E N T L Y Death in Antigua By Steve Kettmann A host family's tragedy tweaks the conscience of a traveler in Guatemala (01/04/98) Hot spots of the millennium Where will people be traveling in 2000? Travel experts predict the destinations of choice in the new millennium (12/24/98) Not finding God in Rome By Zachary Karabell At Christmas in the Eternal City, a seeker of truth discovers that sometimes the answer you don't get is the one you need (12/23/98) An innocent abroad, Part Two By Bill Barich A young writer in Florence encounters enduring lessons in art and love (12/22/98) An innocent abroad: Part One By Bill Barich A semester in Florence shapes a young writer's life (12/20/98) Browse the Wanderlust Postmark archives Wanderlust's Official Travel Book Partner S A L O N E M P O R I U M FREE! 12-ounce bag of Salon Blend with a purchase of $30 or more. While supplies last.		----------------IN PARIS, FRIDAY NIGHT HAS AN ALL-NEW RITE BY SUSAN HACK| It's Friday night in Paris, and the cold drizzle has become a driving winter rain, but that hasn't dampened the spirits of the skaters clumping up the Metro stairs or gliding along the boulevards converging in the Place d'Italie. The Etoile Charles de Gaulle with the Arc de Triomphe may be a tourist icon, but it's this cobbled traffic circle, in the 13th Arrondisement, that has become a Friday night beacon for thousands of roller-blading Parisians. Under the glare of street lamps and the eyes of a motorcycle-mounted police escort, the group soon evolves into a crowd, a mob, a wobbling horde. Just after 10 o'clock, three sharp whistles signal our departure, and we're off on a three-hour roller tour of the French capital, tentatively negotiating rough paving stones before whizzing down the rain-slicked asphalt of the Avenue des Gobelins. I notice with some alarm that hardly anyone is wearing a helmet. An ambulance brings up the rear. The high-spirited pack comprises all the Parisien tribes: teenagers from the banlieues sporting baggy jeans and sweat shirts, middle-aged yuppies kitted out in whole catalogs of expensive sports gear (including sophisticated portable drinking systems, but few helmets) and muscled guys from the Marais wearing earrings, tight shorts and not much else at all. There are families from nearby Chinatown, cigarette-smoking philosophy students and a whole cast of costumed characters who seem to have escaped from some alternative Disney parade: the guy with the Batman cape and mask, the guy with the kilt and bagpipes, the girl with the illuminated cross and skull headband and the guy with the Goofy ears and the portable fanny stereo belting out "I Will Survive." I haven't noticed it before tonight, but the Avenue des Gobelins runs downhill, and as we gain momentum I begin to wonder whether I will survive "Le Friday Night Fever," as these weekly three-hour roller marathons are known. A flier distributed by yellow-shirted guides advises novices like me not to participate unless braking skills are up to par. A childhood ice skater, I've been leisurely blading up and down the quays along the Seine in daylight, practicing my stops by grabbing onto 19th century wrought-iron lamp posts. Now at 20 miles per hour I'm frantically trying not to clip anyone with my wheels. Keeping my eyes down, looking out for warped pavement and broken glass, I narrowly avoid slamming into a parked car. A blue-uniformed roller cop packing a pistol, handcuffs and a bottle of Evian water on his belt appears at my elbow, telling me to lean forward more and bend my knees. I feel an immediate bond, since, like me, he's wearing knee pads, elbow pads and a helmet; patiently, he demonstrates the most efficient technique for "le stop," dragging one skate perpendicular behind the other. I want to thank him for the tip, but my roller savior sprints off to tell some skaters ahead of us to get off the sidewalk, "S'il vous plait!" My mouth falls open, not because I'm panting with effort, but at the irony of a French cop politely ordering citizens to take to the streets and block traffic. While the government has pledged to create 150 kilometers (about 93 miles) of Paris bike paths by 2001, roller blades have taken the city by storm at the cusp of the millennium. The size of the Friday rallies has grown from 500 to 5,000 in the last 18 months, and the numbers keep getting bigger, even with the onset of winter. The Prefecture de Police, as well as the officials of the 13th Arrondisement, have enthusiastically supported the rallies despite complaints from taxi drivers who say the resulting traffic hampers business. N E X T+P A G E | A Paris phenomenon subject to philosophical analysis