[ WP ] On the way to a rally , Donald Trump gets transported to the year 1950

A vortex appeared about 1000 yards in front of the car. It sucked light into it like a black hole. None of the other cars seemed to respond. 
 
 `` Jimmy you seein' this?'' Bill asked. Jimmy had slept most of the way, the fuckin' slacker. He stirred now and wiped a sliver of drool from his cheek. 
 
 `` Whassat?'' 
 
 `` Then you do see it?'' 
 
 `` Yea, what the fuck is it?'' 
 
 Bill shifted uncomfortably in his seat as it drew closer. Still none of the cars seemed to notice. He glanced in the rear view mirror, but Mr. Trump seemed wrapped in his own thoughts as he stared out the window. 
 
 `` Go around it?'' 
 
 `` We're jammed in,'' Bill said, starting to get nervous. His fingers twitched on the steering wheel and his heart was slowly speeding up. He had n't been trained for paranormal bullshit, and he certainly was n't paid enough to deal with it now. 
 
 He had just decided to take out the car next to him to avoid the oncoming gaping hole that held God knows what for them when it seemed to suck in closer, like it knew Bill's barely formed plan. Before he could make any more decisions, and with Jimmy trying to keep his voice down while urging him to'fucking do something already,' they were sucked through. It was instantaneous, there was no jarring sensation, there was n't even some anti-gravity wicked witch of the west tornado ride. They were just at once on I-95, and the next moment pulling through a neighborhood with overly trimmed hedges. 
 
 A man stood checking his mailbox wearing a bow tie and square-rimmed glasses. When he heard the car he turned and gave them a jolly wave. Bill glanced at Jimmy who was in a catatonic state of confusion. Jimmy shrugged absently. 
 
 They continued toward what seemed to be a reasonable direction to find some kind of downtown. It proved rather difficult since there was less congestion for a city than they were used to, and the buildings were n't nearly as packed in, nor quite as tall. Bill glanced back into the rear view mirror once more, but Mr. Trump was still gazing out the window, fingers drumming on the armrest. 
 
 `` Is it just me, or is this some weird Edward Scissorhands shit?'' Bill gave Jimmy a hard stare. He really did n't have time for this. They stopped outside a convenience store, staring dumbly at the advertisements for Cracker Jacks and Camel cigarettes with overly cartoonish smiling women in white gloves. An old Ford rumbled up next to them, bulging and coughing. Mr. Trump opened the door and stepped out into the sunlight, glanced at the car, and went inside the store without comment. 
 
 `` Maybe he wo n't notice,'' Jimmy said.
