Today, boys and girls, we will discuss the causes and effects of adrenaline, a chemical produced by a pair of glands located on your liver.

Actually, I have no idea if that is true or not. The adrenal glands could be located in the feet or buttocks for all I know. But it doesn’t matter. What matters is that adrenaline can make a person leap from near unconsciousness to uptight aggression in a fraction of a second.

Here’s how it usually works for me. I’m slumped in my office chair, eyes lidded, mouth open. A string of drool connects me to my desk so I won’t fly away. The low crackle of the police scanner lulls me into the gray area just before sleep. Love that gray area.

The rising voice of the dispatcher startles me out of my stupor. Shots fired downtown! Panic in the streets! Cops and criminals scrambling every which way and here I am napping at my desk.

I jump to my feet. I wipe off my chin and wade through a puddle of drool. Already my heart rate has increased. Already my body seems to tingle with excitement. My breathing pattern has changed and my senses seem more acute.

Leaping over trash cans and short colleagues, I bound from the building and onto the street, where adrenaline propels me toward the scene of chaos. I am both aided and hampered by this so-called emergency hormone. Adrenaline spurs me to action, but it also tends to tweak my instincts. I drive too fast, over shoot my turn and then scream like a maniac at my own error.

The adrenaline spike is wholly unlike any dose of sugar or 15 cups of coffee. The chemicals produced by the body are more exacting than anything we manufacture in laboratories. And whatever I feel on my way to the mayhem must be puny compared to the adrenaline buzz experienced by the cops wading into the fray. It is nothing in relation to the screaming adrenals criminals enjoy as they scurry to freedom. Those guys are topping out on high-octane gas running from the glands to the brain.

Ah, sweet adrenaline. Never mind that it can turn a person into a moron. Never mind the road rage and violence that rises from its cloud. The moments fueled by the primitive chemical are so high and intense, it is quite like intoxication.

Of course, I’m romanticizing the whole concept now. Sure, adrenaline is cool when you’re chasing down a hot story, kicking butt in a bar fight or rescuing a damsel from peril.

More often for me, the “fight or flight” adrenaline peaks during a less macho occurrence. There was the encounter with fearsome wildlife last weekend, for example.

I’m still shaken by it. It was dawn and I was outside my house having a final smoke. I was stubbing out the cancerous thing when I heard a rustle in a nearby bush. Looking up through one squinted eye, I spied a fat, mean-looking skunk waddling in my direction.

My inner voice advised me to be calm. Don’t spook the creature or you’ll get sprayed, loser. But adrenaline screamed louder than that rational voice of reason. In an instant, I broke and ran, tripping over a bench and slamming my head into a screen door. It would have been deserved if the stinky creature had sprayed me and laughed while doing so. But adrenaline, like rocket fuel, propelled me forward and I fell inside the house in a heap.

A barking dog out of the darkness will send me up a tree like a wild cat in an instant. The sight of a bee will send me off with a girlish scream and flailing arms. An approaching editor will prompt me to jump to my feet and leap out a window even if there is no window.

Adrenaline is not always your friend. It can bring you to awesome, chemical heights and then drop you to the pavement. I think they call it bottoming out, when a sustained adrenaline high suddenly vanishes and you’re left spent and drooping. It can leave you sleepless, suffering from high blood pressure and experiencing embarrassing digestive problems.

Adrenaline is an old, old mechanism primitive man relied on to respond to danger. Without it, cavemen would have been taking on saber-toothed beasts all the time and we might never have evolved. Or we’d be a race of dumb people constantly looking for fights with the biggest guy in the pub. Our life span would be squat.

But no. We are an intelligent, rational people. According to a scientific publication: “In these civilized times, we tend to resolve stressful situations without fighting or running away. This means that you don’t work off the physical effects of the adrenaline.”

I gather those science geeks don’t hang out much in downtown Lewiston, Rumford or anywhere else adrenaline is frequently on display. An exchange of words quickly escalates into an exchange of fists. Combatants say terrible things about their opponents’ mothers. Weapons are pulled from back pockets. Adrenaline has molded a tepid dispute about whether light beer tastes great or is less filling into a bloody exhibit.

But you get the idea. You have your own adrenaline-inducing triggers. The wife’s accusations. The neighbor’s loud stereo. The kids jumping up and down on their beds at midnight.

Take it easy and know your limits. It is wise to remember that you cannot always trust a chemical that is stored in the buttocks.

Mark LaFlamme is the Sun Journal crime reporter.