First it was the TV writers, then it was the Broadway stagehands.

Now it’s strike three, as we say around these parts, as the French transit workers have walked off the job, locking up much of the country in an ugly gridlock mess.

A little background: the French strike the way you and I shower. Last time I was there, we were stuck at the airport for several hours because the pompiers–the guys who pump the gas into the planes–had decided to strike. I did my best impersonation of an Ugly American–something about crucial surgery scheduled back in the States–to no avail.

So the French are certainly prepared, writes the NY Times, and have taken to walking, roller-blading and biking; many of the 10,000 rental bikes around Paris have been grabbed, reports Katrin Bennhold.

At issue are the early retirement benefits for “a small group of public sector workers.” As it appears to work in France, when one group goes on strike, everyone else decides to strike to show their support. Like if the pompiers were to strike again, it’s likely the dry cleaners or the speech therapists might strike in a show of brotherhood and bonhommie, as they say ’round those parts.

Many bikes around Paris had messages for the strikers. One outside the St. Lazare station, writes Bennhold, read: “Stop the strike. Today I pedal because of the strike and it works me up.” 

That ought to show them.