The huge room that could hold more than 10,000 people filled up over the hours. A hundred booths were set up where young girls in thin dress walking from one side to the other with a microphone in their hand, presented the high-end product to the spectators who watched and listened in amazement. I don't know whether their attention was on the shiny machine that smelled brand new or the girl with gazelle legs on her high heels the height of a building.
Teenagers, businessmen, geeks, that was the main type of customers we used to welcome at this event, motorway show.
The guys who just turned 18 came in groups with the aim of admiring the new cars and perhaps leaving with one of the models standing with different positions as if she was waiting to be chosen. They really thought that with a hair on their chin, they were going to be able to get all the chicks that got in their way.
A bunch of fools.
My eyes were now on those men in suits. Fat, thin, short, tall, bald, bearded, handsome, ugly, they were ready to show off the bills spilling out of their pockets. The cars were not a big deal, but to make it look like god's fire, you needed a pretty chick sitting in the passenger seat because otherwise what was the point of having a nice sports car.
Finally, my favorite kind of customers, the geeks.
The only true devotees of this event who no longer slept day and night. They had their entrance ticket in their hand due to the excessive excitement. In their eyes, it was only the polished metal rims with its self-opening doors that followed your orders just by detecting your voice. They've been dreaming about it ever since their parents gave them their first magazine, they imagined it and created their vision of the gadgets of the future.
They were clinging to the ramp that delimited the space of the visitors and the car model that turned on a disc tray giving a 360-degree view. I was willing to bet that they hadn't noticed the existence of the models and their explanations that they were reading word for word on their piece of paper.
"Next time I won't wear these damn heels! I swear, if I get blisters tonight when I get home, Chris has to pay for the whole treatment until I have my soft feet back!" Miyeon tried to balance on her uncomfortable heels while complaining every two minutes.
"If you hadn't used the money he gave you to buy his sandwich, he certainly would have given you a better one," she glared and scoffed for the hundred times. She didn't respond to my criticism because she knew I was right. Chris was our friend and kind of our manager. Miyeon and I were freelance models. We weren't the only ones, there was also Irene, Joy and Hwasa. Chris looked after the five of us as if we were his daughters. And Chris had decided to punish Miyeon for using the money to buy herself a candy bar. Indeed, we were on a strict diet and at the slightest bit of junk food, we were sent to the gym to do hellish abs. He made sure we were trained to be top quality models even though none of us were assigned to an agency.
But we were definitely in high demand. That's why the five of us were presenting the two most expensive car models in the show.
"Look," Miyeon nodded to the booth where Hwasa, Irene and Joy were standing. The three of them wore a black dress perfectly sewn to their measurements. The outfit was designed to lift the curves of their bodies obtained after a long session of squats.
Okay, maybe it was worth the pain.
"The fat guy in the silver suit is still trying to hit on Hwasa," she laughed as she watched the scene or a small man in a suit whose jacket was deformed by the huge belly that was forcing the fabric. He looked like he was ready to explode anytime now.