Bring on the MTA Machines

2nd Avenue construction drives tenant to brink By [Kelli Gail ] As a busy 39-year-old executive who takes two subways and walks half a mile to my office, I constantly battle to get to work on time. So when the 2nd Avenue Subway construction began drilling outside my building on 83rd street, I was preparing to join the large and growing ranks of irate Upper East-Siders, calling 311 and filing letters of complaint. Nowhere in the fine print of my lease did it indicate that the seventh circle of hell was about to descend into my neighborhood: ear-splitting noise, crumbling sidewalks, sinkholes the size of asteroids and disruptions of utility services. Last month, I got a new neighbor: the MTA. The agency thoughtfully moved all their toys that make noise into the basement of my building to fortify it, spending day and night to prevent 32 stories from sinking into the ground. Fed up, I did what any New Yorker going out of their mind would do: I went to see my therapist. When she predictably asked how I could look on the bright side, I came up with the following list. Job Security: As much as I love a jackhammer in my ear beginning at 6:59 a.m., five days a week, and 7:59 a.m. on Saturdays, I no longer sleep through my alarm clock; in fact I don"t even need one anymore. My boss believes I now live at the office. No quitting the gym: When my hot water disappeared, as it has numerous times, my pricey gym membership became justified. I started going there to shower's after dragging myself to work-out in the morning. New pickup lines: When my cable went out for six agonizing days during the NBA Finals (Lakers vs. Celtics in 7 games!), it served the perfect excuse to go solo to an UES sports bar and make conversation with men I normally wouldn"t approach. â??Do you have running water? replaced my â??Do you have an elevator? icebreaker. Sticking it to the man, well, the cable company: When Time Warner blamed Con Edison for lack of cable service and Con Ed blamed Time Warner, I was granted a week of free service from both. Ego boosts: Construction workers smile and say hello to me as I exit my apartment, nodding approvingly when I wear a skirt or a dress, restoring my faith that indeed, there are gentleman in New York City. I have protection: I can finally get around to purchasing renters insurance, now mandatory for living in my building. Sure, I believe the management company when they insist it"s in my best interest (see: not at all indemnifying themselves against potential future lawsuits when the building crumbles). Earplug money: My rent was lowered this past year by $100 a month. A far cry from the average of $5,000 some renters are getting to vacate their soon-to-be-demolished apartments, but I realize the MTA is bankrupt, so I understand they can"t subsidize my third-world living conditions. Still a $100 does go far these days. The extra money will come in handy for things like earplugs, and, well, more therapy. Bring on the machines! n _ Kelli Gail is a public relations executive on the Upper East Side.