PARIS (AP) The 2,000-year-old city that glorifies light, splendor and fortuitously fermented grapes threw a millennium-warming on Friday with grand feasts and a street party such as the world has never seen.

At midnight, the Eiffel Tower itself danced in a dazzling ballet of fiery colors before popping its cork to spew symbolic bubbles across a planet in need of some cheer.

Around its base, huge crowds sprayed each other with the real thing, screamed cheers in a dozen languages and kissed the nearest person.

Spontaneous partylets burst out all over town as people spilled out of restaurants and cafes. Crowd of Parisians and tourists then descended on the Champs-Elysees to keep going until dawn.

''This is the most beautiful city in the world, and you can overeat to your heart's content,'' Jane Miller, a poet from Tucson, Ariz., exulted. ''Where else would I be?''

Her friend Jacqueline Tully, a San Francisco private investigator, nodded enthusiastic accord. Their group of seven picked a celebration spot years ago, and Paris came up unanimous.

''Something in everyone wants to be in the right place at the right time,'' Tully said. ''And, my God, this is a millennium.''

Whimsical Ferris wheels dotted the Champs-Elysees to the Concorde, where a giant illuminated wheel carried revelers high above the Egyptian obelisk that was 1,300 years old before Christians kept a calendar.

Just five hours before midnight, the digital countdown clock on the Eiffel Tower went out after working fine for 1,000 days. Security officials called it an old-fashioned glitch and expected it to be repaired.

The entire Paris police force and borrowed riot troops 24,000 in all were out to keep the millions of revelers safe.

Outdoor sound stages blared music to crowds undaunted by clouds and drizzle. In every part of town, from the rowdy Latin Quarter to the chic northern neighborhoods, Paris celebrated outside.

And in uncounted dining rooms, old friends worked through stuffed goose liver, lobster, smoked salmon, venison, game birds, and holiday delicacies that only the French can concoct.

Just days ago, the mood was less bacchanalia than Armageddon. Killer winds that savaged France tore out 150,000 trees around Paris, many planted two centuries ago when the Sun King ruled at Versailles.

Rains swelled the Seine, flooding its fabled quais and washing away plans for dinner cruises amid fairy-lit boats. Cracked tree trunks and blown-down signs smashed cars along the Champs-Elysees.

In a separate calamity, 3 million gallons of spilled oil fouled the Atlantic coast and rich beds of fines de claires oysters.

But Paris recovers fast. By afternoon Friday, crowds were thick in the center of town.

Thousands may have flown down to Rio, but Maria-Elena Soares Gontejo came here. A Brazilian lawyer in flaming crimson, she strutted theatrically down the Champs-Elysees as a friend filmed her.

''I love Paris in the winter,'' she said, when asked why she came. ''I love Paris in the fall. I love Paris. ...'' By then, she had burst into a song well-known around here.

''I'll be right here at midnight,'' she said, glancing up and down the light-splashed boulevard. ''I can't think of anywhere I'd rather be. Just don't talk to me about football.''

The last time Soares Gontejo saw the Champs-Elysees, in July 1998, France was celebrating its World Cup soccer final upset over Brazil. This time, Frenchmen are just part of the multinational party.

Still, not everyone was on the street.

At the Chateau de Chantilly, where Francois Vatel fell on his sword three centuries ago because the seafood was late for a meal he planned for Louis XIV and 2,000 guests, a modern banquet fared better.

Alain Senderens, the three-star chef of Lucas Carton, cooked the sumptuous meal, but most eyes were on the wines: Montrachet 1990, Petrus 1988, Haut-Brion 1982, Latour 1970, Romanee-Conti 1971, Chateau d'Yquem 1967.

For the stroke of midnight, there was Lafite-Rothschild 1873, worth perhaps $6,000 a bottle, and Chateau d'Yquem 1884, which comes a little cheaper.

At $3,075 a plate, wine included, waiters served 150 people.

''It was half-full, not half-empty,'' said Catherine Sick, an organizer. ''We take an optimistic view considering how many people did not travel as they had first planned.''

The Bal du Roy, a nine-hour meal for 1,000 people at the storm-battered Versailles Palace, was modeled on a glory-days feast that Louis XIV might have given.

For $2,300, diners made do with Chassagne-Montrachet 1996, Smith Haut-Lafitte 1995 and Dom Ruinart 1990 Champagne. But they consoled themselves with royal medallion of sea bass with Sevruga caviar and sea scallops in a sauce of Asian citrus preserves.

Farther down the food chain, people did the best they could.

Francois Chaplain, a shopkeeper, drove his wife and his three kids down from Brittany. They planned to party at a friend's house but did not want to miss the spectacle on the streets.

''Paris is a great place to be, I suppose,'' he said. ''I came here because I couldn't make it to New York.''