Seattle Tacoma, you don't win me over

Perhaps I shouldn't have stayed awake all the way across the Pacific.

Perhaps I shouldn't have watched four different films (is Aliens not
so good now because I'm old and cynical, or was it always so?).

Perhaps I shouldn't have expected to breeze through Customs, rather
than enjoy an enormous queue with an officious man yelling at people
not to use their mobile phones (a bit less yelling and a bit more
processing would get people out and not using mobile phones in the
Sacred Halls Of Immigration, surely?)

But I'm a seasoned traveller now. I recognise half the officials at
SeaTac when I fly in. So I didn't expect some new kind of
bullshittery, where having collected your suitcase from the carousel
and passed through customs, you then have to put your case back onto
another belt and see it vanish back into the bowels of the airport,
before riding a train to another terminal and then walking halfway
across that building to pick up the bag you thought they wouldn't pry
from your cold, dead hands, and then walk back across the terminal, up
a floor, down a floor and half that distance again to find a cab.

I'm not saying that was all an inglorious waste of time, I'm just
trying to figure out if Seattle is trying to one-up Tokyo for forcing
users of the airport to get some exercise while they're there. I
suppose it beats climbing 12 flights of stairs though.