When I moved into my apartment, some three years ago and change, I really liked Hell’s Kitchen. I had already lived in the neighborhood for several years, and was moving just two blocks down and a half block to the east.

But that small distance was a big change. It put me on the corner of 8th Ave, less than ten blocks up from the heart of darkness: Times Square.

Which was bad. And with each passing year, got worse. The area gentrified. More and more tourists poured down my block.

By now, on my way to work, I have to elbow through crowds of gawkers from fly-over states. (A family of ten standing motionless in the middle of the sidewalk as the father points: “look, Martha, it’s a tall buildin’!”)

During ‘christmas season’ (September through February), I have to divert my commute entirely – five blocks up, five blocks back down – just to avoid the enthralled-to-standstill Rockefeller Center crowds. (“Look, Martha, it’s a tall tree!”)

Jess arrived long after the neighborhood’s grit had been largely polished away, never lived closer to 9th Ave to see that there really are (or, at least, were) restaurants and shops nearby aside from the Olive Garden and the Phantom of Broadway Gift Shop (“We have good price I [HEART] NY shirt!”).

So, not surprisingly, she hated it from the get-go. Not our apartment itself, which we both really like. But, in short, pretty much everything within a ten block radius of our front door.

And, increasingly, so do I. So, post-wedding, we’ll be kicking off an apartment search.

It’s a terrible, terrible time to do so. Sales prices are on the verge of ‘readjustment’, yet rental prices are fast on the climb.

Still, for the sake of our sanity, we’re not sure we really have a choice.

As for specifics – like neighborhood – we’re not yet entirely sure. Maybe downtown. Or uptown. In short, pretty much anywhere but where we are right now.

They say Time Square’s the core of the Big Apple; by now, we’re both pretty sure it’s the pits.