When I was (not much) younger, I'd cry at the sight of trees in a lot on Christmas Eve: trees that didn't get chosen.
I still get pretty upset -- last Saturday we drove past the lot on our block and I turned to hubby and practically wailed "there's nothing wrong with any of those trees, but they still didn't get picked!"
My allergies, though, were the deciding factor in us going fake. I can visit trees, but I can't have that pine sap around for two weeks or my eyes will nearly swell shut and I'll just sneeze and sneeze and sneeze. I do miss the scent of a real tree. I don't miss the infernal needles. I love pulling our little fake pre-lit tree out of its box, fluffing up its branches, putting the twenty or so ornaments that will fit on it up, and sitting back to enjoy it only a quarter-hour later. And I never have to worry about it being dry!