1. The rough is too much for me. Since I seem to play most of my golf during the winter, and rarely during the warm season, I am no longer accustomed to hitting out of real grass that is not short. Basically I suck at playing from rough, and realistically there's not much I can do about it. If that makes me less of a man so be it. I am ready to accept it.
2. The trip is too long and difficult. 15 minutes bike riding through the busiest part of Manhattan, with golf bag on one shoulder because there's not enough space otherwise. I almost got in a fight once because I knocked back a sideview mirror on a parked van with my clubs. He thought I had broken it when I had just bent it back. I lost my cool and called him a stupid fuckin retard in front of all these people, very regrettable incident. Anyways I digress. From Penn Station (the worst train terminal in the city) it's a 45-60m train ride (depending on how many local stops), then a taxi ride to the course. It's not so bad going there, but at the end of a long day, it is so hard. I almost cried yesterday getting home, faced with such a Herculean task to fulfill, with exhausted legs and a sunstroke headache.
3. Long Island people, even the nicest ones, are still repugnant. I have known and made some really good professional relationships with such people, but playing golf and spending 5+ hours in their company, making chit-chat etc is a whole different scenario. It's not just at the course, it's on the whole trip. Bethpage is like smack in the middle of Long Island. That area is so saturated with Long Island essence. For a west coast native, who spends most of his time in the metropolis, this is especially hard to take, borderline inhumane. You wouldn't expect Israelis and Palestinians to enjoy nice rounds of golf together.
4. There is a lot about the whole facility that is infuriating. The staff are horrible crotchety LI people. Who are employees of NYS government

"Uh, I just now got here, and I have my receipt, here look."
"Well ok, but you shouldn't be hitting off these mats, they were for a golf camp."
"Oh, sorry I had no idea. I'll move."
I start to pack up the balls and then he says "No, it's okay don't worry about it, the camp's over anyways." The older guy at the counter who had just sold me the balls was watching this whole stupid thing. I gave him a dirty look, threw up my hands and shook my head.
If this whole exchange strikes you as extremely shitty and pointless, then stay away from Long Island. These people are sick, ill. They can't help it. The starter was similarly shitty. She tried to pressure me and the other guy into pushing back our tee-time and waiting for a couple people WHO WERE LATE FOR THE TEE TIME. And when we answered that we'd rather tee off at our designated time, she acquiesced but with a lot of huffing and puffing and "Fine, have it your way, if you really have to" etc.
Besides the people, the facilities suck. This is a massive complex with five 18-hole courses, and trying to buy a snack or a drink is a goddamn wild goose chase. I finally just asked the pro shop, where is the easiest place to buy a bottle of water? There is exactly one place to buy a drink, even a soft drink, even a lousy bottle of water: the bar inside the grill. You know what it's like trying to get the bartender's attention at a crowded bar? Imagine doing that for a shitty bottle of water on a hot summer day. This is literally your only choice at the world famous Bethpage State Park golf course, home of the US Open, PGA Championship, Ryder Cup etc.
Also the driving range is so short that drivers are prohibited

5. Speaking of major championships and pro golf... if I've long since run out of shits to give for these things, then why should I care about Bethpage Black? The answer is, I shouldn't. If you a huge fan of the PGA Tour then yes, you should derive some excitement from playing the same courses as your heroes. If not, then you're better off saving time, money and calories and finding a course where you can just have some fun. Anyways you are not impressing anybody. Fuckface.