P.S. You're Terrible.

Important question for today. How do we define close-minded? Is it not allowing gay marriage in your state? Harboring racist thoughts? Hating Muslims for no reason? Or simply shutting down that which is foreign to you regardless of the impact it makes? All of the above clearly suffices. But then, so does Kate Ahlborn.

Kate is a Harvard graduate, Upper East Side inhabiting, Vanity Fair blogger. Here's what she has to offer the world of the interwebs:

Somehow it happened that in all the years I've lived in New York City, I'd never been to Brooklyn. But when I heard that choreographer Noémie Lafrance had a new show opening in Williamsburg, I decided it was as good an occasion as any to venture beyond Manhattan for the first time.

First off, to say you've lived in New York for years and never have been to Brooklyn is disgraceful. I've lived here for less than six months, most of which found me broke as dirt, yet I've already been to Brooklyn (obvs), Manhattan, Harlem, Staten Island and Queens. AND I'm lazy.

Additionally, "somehow it happened in all the years..." Let me assist you. "Somehow" it happened because you're a pampered, sheltered and unadventurous person.

So on Tuesday night, I boarded the L train (heading away from the West Village) and made my way to hipsterville.

I know Williamsburg gets all the buzz, but Brooklyn isn't just W'burg. In fact, I might even argue that W'burg is more an extension of Manhattan than Brooklyn, much of that due to train availability from other sections of Brooklyn. For instance, the easiest way for me to get to W'Burg is by taking the train from my stop at Atlantic Center (Brooklyn's central hub if there is one) into Manhattan, changing trains, then heading back to Brooklyn.

Perhaps my tweed J. Crew jacket and Tory Burch ballet flats weren't the best wardrobe choice for that day, but I overcame the fact that I was a total Williamsburg misfit and hoped my foreigner status wouldn't be glaringly obvious to the natives. (It was.) After narrowly escaping death by skateboard on the Bedford subway platform, I made my way to a rickety building in what felt to me like Brooklyn's outer banks. (It wasn't.)

Oh, Kate. Poor, poor Kate. Skateboards! Who would imagine? Such things don't exist in the wilds of Manhattan!

You'll find that if you venture to Brooklyn Heights, Ft. Greene, Park Slope, Brighton Beach, Coney Island, Sunset Park, Carroll Gardens, Cobble Hill, Prospect Heights, Windsor Terrace, Red Hook (outer banks! scary!) or the Fulton Mall. But that's right, she won't. So she won't discover that the borough has contributed much to the art, music, film, theatre and food scene in New York over the past several years. Not to mention Notorious B.I.G.

I left the rickety building slightly shaken up and eager to get back to Manhattan. After this experience, I'm fairly certain that's exactly where I belong.

Right. Because Manhattan has no rickety buildings. Or hipsters. Or artists. But you're right. You do belong in Manhattan. Stay right there on the Upper East. We'll enjoy the rest. Because of all the places I've ventured to during my life in NYC, the one place I've yet to go is the UES. I've been there once. I'm not missing much. Unless I feel the sudden urge to view those lovely tweed J. Crew jackets.

"After this experience, I'm fairly certain that's exactly where I belong." Kate, for once, we agree. Stay there. We'll enjoy the rest.