We rode in the cab back to my apartment from the vegan restaurant where the food played a circus with my insides. The French driver greeted us warmly, I said something unintelligible with the few bon mots I knew and threw in a pardonnez ma pronunciation, je ne parle pas vraiment la français mais la femme ne sait pas...
“Votre français est bon!”
And I replied with a you’re welcome instead.
Bonne nuit indeed.
He got your intent, and your meaning from context and that's most of communicating. The important thing is you went home later that night, stared miserably at a mirror and repeated "merci, merciii, mercy" in between shots of vodka.