The Crazy Dog Lady

Yesterday I became "the crazy dog lady." The lady I roll my eyes at and am frightened of.
It happened quickly, without a second to react or even to breathe. My lab was playing with a smaller pup, they were wrestling and gnawing on each other in the dirt filled dog park. A giant (I may be exaggerating, but I remember him as being "giant") pit bull decided to get in on the action and quickly became part of the pack. What at first was innocent puppy fun, soon became "attack of the giant pit bull." At the first sound of aggression, I ran to the middle of the action. I began grabbing for my dog while screaming, like a madwoman, "Goddammit! Get your fucking dog! That dog has started three fights today! Get him out of here!" The owner, who I had been pleasantly chatting with moments before, quickly swooped in, grabbed a hold of his dog by the tail, and escorted him out of the park.
After checking my pup for open wounds, and finding not even a scratch, I glanced around at the other owners, whispering quietly in their people packs. They glanced in my direction, secretly giving me the once over with their eyes, the same look I have given numerous times to the frantic, crazed woman or man who screams at another dog owner.
This crazy lady is nothing new. She has been unleashed before, usually in a fit of road rage, or while standing in a long line at the supermarket. She does things I do not recognize, she shouts things I would never whisper (at least when I am in my right mind..whatever that means).
Just a couple weeks ago, I was driving my car after a long day at work, and 1 1/2 hours of bumper to bumper traffic, when she emerged. Some woman in a Jetta, cut in front of me in the single lane of traffic the rest of us had been patiently waiting in for what seemed like days. She had nudged by hundreds of cars on the shoulder of the road, settling for a position right in front of me. That is when it happened. I thought, "I can play her game." I went up on the shoulder and charged in front of her, positioning my car horizontally across the single lane, so she (and the hundreds of cars behind her) could not move forward. "I'll show her," the crazy lady consuming my body cackled. I'll spare you the rest of the details, but let's just say, it was not one of my finer moments.
On TV a couple weeks ago, I saw a well respected doctor jump out of his car in a slow moving Costco gas line. He held a crow bar and his face was red as he approached the car that had cut in front of him. I wanted to judge him and say, "Oh my God, what a nut," or "That guy should lose his medical license," but instead, I just sat quietly and thought, "Tomorrow I should remove the crow bar from my trunk."