One of the biggest lies the movies tell?

That New York City is a magical place to be at Christmastime.

Hollywood depicts pleasantly bustling streets full of festive commuters, warm and inviting department stores, and warehouses worth of garland, tinsel and string lights that combine into a spectacular holiday fantasyland.

Improbably, characters smile in these films.

And, hey, I get it. NYC is a smart place to set a Christmas movie — an entire city full of Scrooges ripe for redemption.

Especially that one Krampus of a critic from the New York Post. Jerry Oliesky, or something like that.

But believe me, from now until Jan. 2 any seasonal spot in Manhattan that looks nice and fun onscreen is actually a cruel and unusual hellscape of crowds, stress and astronomical credit card debt.

Mid

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