So there I was...

[Keroin]

I need action! Adventure! Adrenaline! (Yes, my testosterone levels are dangerously high at the moment).

I've just finished doing rewrites on a story that takes place in the stunt world and that got me to thinking. Because all us stunt puppies had massive egos, we were forever telling stories about all the reckless and wild things we'd done, in an attempt to out-macho each other. It was kind of an inside joke that all these stories would start with, "So, there I was..."

I love these kinds of stories and I bet there are more than a few lingering around on this board. I want to hear them! Don't worry, you don't have to tell about how you rappelled out of a helicopter, into a mine field, to collect truffles for a gourmet dinner you were preparing for the King of Sweden.

Maybe you had a nasty boss you finally worked up the courage to tell off? Perhaps your PYL delivered a particularly brutal flogging that you endured? You may have just thrown caution to the wind and worn white after Labour Day. I don't care what it is, just gimme, gimme, gimme!!!

This is your time to brag, go for it...

 

[Keroin]

Added: And because I am in such a good mood, I will even allow brags about golf scores...ahem...WD.

(But it's still not a sport).

 

[rida]

So, I'm not sure if it is brag worthy in the sense intended for this thread, but I'll give it a try:

Long ago, when I was still young and reckless and didn't have any obligations, I went skiing with my father. We were, modesty aside, pretty good at it, so when we saw a couple of guys skiing down an off path slope and than look fairly mediocre when skiing on the easy path, we figured we could ski down the off path slope ourselves and look better.

We got at the top of the ride, and off we went to reach the side off path slope that was basically the space between two rocky walls. By the time we got at the top of the opening we realized there was no going back. And looking down ... do you know how a slope usually looks steeper when looking up from the bottom? Well, this one looked much worse from the top down: an almost vertical icy wall with rocks here and there where softer snow made little white cushions.

So there I was, looking down and laughing because ... what else you can do?
And with a deep breath, we lunched ourselves down at the top of our skills (ok, we slid and stop and slid and stop in a totally not elegant fashion). By the time we got to the flat easy slope our legs were jelly and all we could do was get to the end ... where we met the two "not so good" skier that turned out to be ... Alpen Ski Instructors.

 

[WriterDom]

Added: And because I am in such a good mood, I will even allow brags about golf scores...ahem...WD.

(But it's still not a sport).

It's the greatest sport. Just you, a ball, and a stick. And the dream never dies.

 

[lk70]

And the dream never dies.

It just lands in the water.

 

[WriterDom]

It just lands in the water.

Not the last time I played. Over the water and onto the green. About 30 feet past the pin. My putt was right on line but will it get there? Yes, right in the cup. First birdie of the year.

 

[sinnocence]

It just lands in the water.

Oh wow, that literally made me laugh out loud.

I may have a couple stories to put in here too.

 

[WriterDom]

I was on the USS Ranger for a while. Aircraft carrier now in mothballs. I hear this alarm go off. I’m not sure what it is, I just know it isn’t good. Then I hear, “General Quarters, General Quarters, all hands man your battle stations. Complete mayhem now. At least 2500 people running somewhere. There are rules about what direction you can run during GQ. So I had to down three decks, run across the hanger bay and then up three on the other side. Meanwhile I hear this awful grinding noise. When I get in the hanger bay I see this fuel tanker almost inside my ship and both are going about 20 knots. Apparently if you get two ships that big together it’s not a simple matter to get them apart again. I got up the other side and into the weather office where I worked. And we’re still hooked together because I remember Mikey being on his knees saying The Lord’s prayer. Good for him but it didn’t make me feel any better.

They got them apart without anything blowing up. We had a brand new captain and it was his first or second day at sea. From that day on, we called him Captain Crunch. That was a hellish cruise. We had three Australian ports scheduled and the fuckers in Lebanon killed all those marines and we just sat at sea for 132 days in a row. We also had a fire that killed 6 sailors. We were at GQ for that damn fire all day.

 

[unpredictablebijou]

I'm thinking about my own contribution here, but for the moment I'll add this:

we have a similar tradition, the caveman-bragging-around-the-campfire sort of thing, but the introductory phrase is slightly different. In our tribe those stories must start with the phrase, "No shit. There I was..."

I noticed early on that there's an important detail to the phrase, though. If you say "No shit" you're allowed to exaggerate a bit. But if you say "This is no shit," you must tell the absolute truth. One saves that for the truly astounding stories that no one would believe otherwise.

 

[Betticus]

When I was in the army out in California I used to run in the evenings. I had a 3.5 mile route and would usually warm up by walking half a lap, running a full 3.5 miles and then walking another half lap.

There was some asshole who would sometimes leave his dog in their front yard, no chain or anything. Now, I don't like to harm animals so.. this was a medium/large sized dog and it would bark like crazy when I'd run past but one time it came after me and I ended up jumping into the back of some guys truck. I was yelling at the house, the front door was open and I could hear their tv but the assholes didn't even bother to look out. The dog calmed down and went away and I finished my run all pissed off.

A few days later same thing happens but there isn't anywhere I can go as I'm in the middle of the street so when this fucking dog catches me it goes for a bite. I caught him by the muzzle with my right hand, curled my fingers into his mouth with his cheeks between fingers and teeth and I picked the dog up. I shook him a bit that thing panicked and started yipping like he was being gutted. That whole family was out of that house in an instant for that.. but not when that dog is going insane attacking someone.

The dude was threatening to call the police and I was pretty heated so I tell him to go ahead and then he can explain why his unsecured dog is out and allowed to attack people on the street and he also had no answer as to why he could hear his dog in trouble but ignore it when it's barking like crazy and running off after people down the street.

So I ended up just throwing his piece of shit dog down on the street and I finished my run. I told him if it ever happened again I would just kill his dog and do the neighborhood a favor.

Never saw that damned dog again. That guys kids sure cried a lot and his wife was a cunt.

 

[graceanne]

When I was in the army out in California I used to run in the evenings. I had a 3.5 mile route and would usually warm up by walking half a lap, running a full 3.5 miles and then walking another half lap.

There was some asshole who would sometimes leave his dog in their front yard, no chain or anything. Now, I don't like to harm animals so.. this was a medium/large sized dog and it would bark like crazy when I'd run past but one time it came after me and I ended up jumping into the back of some guys truck. I was yelling at the house, the front door was open and I could hear their tv but the assholes didn't even bother to look out. The dog calmed down and went away and I finished my run all pissed off.

A few days later same thing happens but there isn't anywhere I can go as I'm in the middle of the street so when this fucking dog catches me it goes for a bite. I caught him by the muzzle with my right hand, curled my fingers into his mouth with his cheeks between fingers and teeth and I picked the dog up. I shook him a bit that thing panicked and started yipping like he was being gutted. That whole family was out of that house in an instant for that.. but not when that dog is going insane attacking someone.

The dude was threatening to call the police and I was pretty heated so I tell him to go ahead and then he can explain why his unsecured dog is out and allowed to attack people on the street and he also had no answer as to why he could hear his dog in trouble but ignore it when it's barking like crazy and running off after people down the street.

So I ended up just throwing his piece of shit dog down on the street and I finished my run. I told him if it ever happened again I would just kill his dog and do the neighborhood a favor.

Never saw that damned dog again. That guys kids sure cried a lot and his wife was a cunt.

See I thought you might tell the story about when you chased down that cougar.

 

[graceanne]

Bett's story reminds me of one. I was walking my six month old sister (I was 16) and their was this annoying yappy dog we'd always walk by. I was talking to a friend about a block down from the street, and the lady who lives in that house was walking to her car and accidentally let the dog out. That fucking dog headed straight for L, like a homing missile. And he wasn't looking friendly. And his owners chasing him down, screaming for him to come back. I crouched down where the dog could see my face and said "I will break your fucking jaw."

The dog YIPPED and ran back to his mistress. And I didn't have to do anything.

My friend was all 'remind me not to piss you off'. lol

 

[WriterDom]

There was the dog down near the river who used to race me when I was on my bike. He just look back at me with this dog grin on his face like he was so proud of himself for being faster than me.

 

[Keroin]

*Munching popcorn*

These are farking awesome stories! Thanks.

I'm sick, (as in feel-like-I'm-going-to-barf sick), today, so this is perfect entertainment.

 

[Evil_Geoff]

So there I was, A Sunday morning about 8 am, the only people conscious in town are the early church-goers and us cops...

The call goes out, "Burglary in progress, white male suspect armed with an axe..." That's a serious #3, pushing #4 on the Pucker Factor scale.

(NOTE: PF 1 = pull your drawers out of the crack of your ass, PF 2 = Pull your drawers and pants out of the crack of your ass, PF = 3 there is a definite tug when you lift your ass off the car seat cause you've done pulled the fabric up with you allong with your drawers and pants, PF 4 = having to remove seat springs from your ass after all is said and done...)

It proceeds to a full on Pucker Factor 4 when the dispatcher continues with "white female inside home..."

So it's balls to the wall, lights & siren for a bit, then no siren, then no lights, pull up a couple of houses away, and start sneaking in close. I can hear the high output v-8's "Whoo-WHOOP" of incoming backup when suddenly, about 3 blocks out I hear the siren of another cruiser kick on... and around the corner comes a patrol car that screeches to a halt with locked brakes and 4 smoking tires outside the the house that's being broken into... the district sergeant hops out and signals me to go one way around the back of the house as another officer arrives behind the sergeant and gets the high sign to go the other way, and the sergeant starts pounding on the door hollering "POLICE! OPEN UP!"

I head towards the back, visions of either a hostage situation and being tied down for hours, or blood splattered walls and hacked up housewife dancing in my minds eye... About 10 feet from the corner I look up as the perpetrator rounds the corner at a full tilt run headed right at me... He's 10' tall with the worlds's largest battle axe in his hands...

The world goes into slow motion... My hands coming up as I am hollering "FREEZE", my finger tightening on the trigger as this asshole is 3 steps away from me and running full tilt, and he's 2 steps from getting capped because I'm not going hand to hand with an axe...

His right foot hits the ground, the hammer of the .357 is almost halfway back... I'm blowing the air out of my lungs as I firm up my site picture at center mass... and...

I'm looking at his back as he rounds the corner the other way...

WHATTHEFUCK?!?!?!? HOW'D HE DO THAT? An honest to God cartoon 180 with 1 foot in the air coming down one way and he was headed the other way when the foot hit the ground. My heart's pounding, I'm hollering in the radio, and run around the corner in time to watch the other officer get the burglar on the ground. We cuff him and get him tucked in the back of a car and I get an "atta-boy!" for running him back towards the other cop...

Closest I ever came in 17 years on the job to busting a cap on someone.

Hope that's enough adrenalin for ya!

 

[Keroin]

Hope that's enough adrenalin for ya!

Oh baby, I need an e-cigarette! (I don't smoke, BTW).

My heart is beating a hard eight. Thanks.

Oh, and nice to meet you, EG, I've read some of your posts and heard lots of nice things about you on this board.

Smiles - K

 

[Sir_Winston54]

... this asshole is 3 steps away from me and running full tilt, and he's 2 steps from getting capped because I'm not going hand to hand with an axe...

You were going to wait until he was 1 step away before the hammer fell? Dood! Do you use a wheelbarrow to carry those things in?

 

[Homburg]

You were going to wait until he was 1 step away before the hammer fell? Dood! Do you use a wheelbarrow to carry those things in?

I was thinking the same thing. I worked armed security for a few years, and had to draw exactly once. Pack of dogs gone feral wandered onto the property I was working. I drew my sidearm, pointed it at the lead dog, and started slooowly moving backwards.

Those dogs were twenty feet away. At 19' I would've been pulling that trigger. The fact that EG let him get that close is some serious balls.

Interestingly, for a thoroughly frightening moment, I was dead ice calm, inside and out. Once I got into my car, still fine. Off the property and calling Animal Control? Yeah, shaking badly.

On the "Hey y'all, watch this!" front, I walked maybe a third of the railing of this bridge until my mother yelling at me distracted me too badly. Duuuumb move.

Again, icy calm, didn't bother me. I thought it was a fun joke.

How about insane adrenaline strength moments? My dad and I were rebuilding the engine on the family car, and were underneath it trying to seat the transmission. We did not have a transmission jack, so the trans was precariously balanced on a floor jack with a piece of 2x4 on the spindle. Dad was under the bulk of the transmission trying to seat the first bolt. I was jockeying the transmission around to get it to seat, and was working at full arm's length on my back.

The transmission slipped, heading right for my dad's face. I jammed my arms out over my head and grabbed the transmission while my dad looked at the trans case about a half inch from his nose. I felt like my shoulders were going to rip out of their sockets, and managed to grunt out "Think you can move, please?" He got out from underneath it (as he was moving while I said this, I just had my eyes shut concentrating hard). I had to hold the goddamned thing until he got something underneath it too, as my hands would have been pulped if I just let it down. Not fun.

It was a cavalier, so the transmission was not a hugely heavy thing, but, hell, I was only 15 at the time, my arms were fully extended over my head with zero leverage, and it was still a frikken transmission. My shoulders were on non-speaking terms with me for a bit after that.

 

[LilyBart]

Homburg's post about being calm in the face of something awful has made me think... (as had EG's)

That when that something awful is happening, or about to happen, to someone else, especially someone close to you...we can summon what's needed.

I am not at all heroic, in the physical sense...but I have found myself able to remain eerily calm (in retrospect), in the face of danger to my loved ones.

I think, if required, I could summon up enough testosterone to pull the equivalent of Homburg's transmission experience. Although I hope I don't have to. Especially since I have lately been not so disciplined about working out.

Its the being calm part, during the event, that I find intriguing actually. Since for me, post incident, I totally fell apart. But then my incident involved one of my children...maybe it might have been different in another scenario.

Just my thoughts to chew on, I guess...

~LB

 

[Keroin]

Homburg's post about being calm in the face of something awful has made me think... (as had EG's)

That when that something awful is happening, or about to happen, to someone else, especially someone close to you...we can summon what's needed.

I am not at all heroic, in the physical sense...but I have found myself able to remain eerily calm (in retrospect), in the face of danger to my loved ones.

I think, if required, I could summon up enough testosterone to pull the equivalent of Homburg's transmission experience. Although I hope I don't have to. Especially since I have lately been not so disciplined about working out.

Its the being calm part, during the event, that I find intriguing actually. Since for me, post incident, I totally fell apart. But then my incident involved one of my children...maybe it might have been different in another scenario.

Just my thoughts to chew on, I guess...

~LB

No, LB, I think you have some excellent thoughts here.

I've seen a lot of people in high stress, panic situations. For some people, that moment just flips a switch in their head and they go into superhero mode, for others, the stress just sends them into hysteria or, worse, puts them in a mildly comatose state. And you can never really tell who will rise to the challenge and who will run away screaming until the moment actually arrives.

Adrenalin is an amazing thing. The post-adrenalin come down sucks, though. Seen more than one guy puke post-adrenalin rush. For me, I usually have to down about two liters of water afterward and I can't stop talking.

 

[Homburg]

I've had more than one situation pop up where I've had to decide right then and there what had to be done to deal with a bad situation. The level of calm situational awareness actually bothers me. I've been in situations where one of my own kids was bleeding and I had to fix it right then, and I was still dead calm. I felt really guilty after that.

Sure, I did the right thing and remained cool (as did viv, she is solid in those sorts of situations too), but I still felt like "This is my kid, I should be freaked out. I should be feeling SOMETHING." Nope. Just pick her up, get compression on the wound, joke a bit to calm the other kids down, and get things situated to drive her to the hospital (it wasn't serious enough to call an ambulance, just very bloody). Oddly, that incident (fell off the couch facefirst into a lego block, causing a very bloody, but not life-threatening headwound) didn't even cause the adrenaline spike.

I can think of a few physical confrontations I got into while working security/bouncing. Most did not result in too much adrenaline. My adrenals are jaded or something.

 

[graceanne]

When I was a kid I wanted to be the kind of girly girl who like, faints, or something when scary things happen.

Now I'm rather like Anne Shirley (from Anne of Green Gables). For those who've read the books, remember how she always wanted to faint, and then when she did she realized it's not cool and was glad she's not a fainter?

That's me. I respond well to things like that. I surprise myself, my reflexes (which ordinarily suck) get really good, I'm really calm. Etc.

Then, later, I FREAK OUT. But that's ok.

Like when my nephew had is first convulsion. It was the middle of summer and he had an ear infection (read: he was running a temperature). He woke up from his nap (he was only 2), and I picked him up and he was really lethargic and whiny and sweaty. I told his mom to get me a cool wet rag, and while she was looking for a rag to get wet he hurled on me, then went into convulsions.

I told miss to bring me the phone and quietly told them what was going on. I figured she wouldn't hear me, cause she was chattering away a mile a minute (still getting me a wet rag). But she did. And she FLIPPED OUT. The emergency lady was all 'SHE NEEDS TO CALM DOWN, HE CAN HEAR HER!!!'. If my hands weren't full of pukey baby I might have smacked her. (Side note: HOW CAN I BE RELATED TO HER?)

Turns out what I figured was the issue was the issue - he handles the heat like I do. He barely sweats, and gets heat stroke really easy. Now that we know the warning signs (the big ones being flushed cheeks, bitchiness, and lethargy), it hasn't been an issue. But they ran a ton of scans on him to be sure.

But anyway, the ambulance came and took them to the ER. And I just lost it. This happened about two weeks after my other nephew had died (within a week of having convulsions). K got there about five minutes after the ambulance left, and took me and our oldest home.

 

[LilyBart]

No, LB, I think you have some excellent thoughts here.

I've seen a lot of people in high stress, panic situations. For some people, that moment just flips a switch in their head and they go into superhero mode, for others, the stress just sends them into hysteria or, worse, puts them in a mildly comatose state. And you can never really tell who will rise to the challenge and who will run away screaming until the moment actually arrives.

Adrenalin is an amazing thing. The post-adrenalin come down sucks, though. Seen more than one guy puke post-adrenalin rush. For me, I usually have to down about two liters of water afterward and I can't stop talking.

Thanks K, although I don't know about excellent thoughts...

I just know that I never expected to be in this position. But yes, a switch was definitely flipped. And I suppose Wonder Woman lives inside me. Who knew?

Really, I think we all have some kind of of Wonder Woman, or Incredible Hulk, or whatever. We just need that moment, I think.

 

[Dreamliner]

.............................

 

[Sir_Winston54]

I worked armed security for a few years, and had to draw exactly once. Pack of dogs gone feral wandered onto the property I was working. I drew my sidearm, pointed it at the lead dog, and started slooowly moving backwards.

Those dogs were twenty feet away. At 19' I would've been pulling that trigger. The fact that EG let him get that close is some serious balls.

Interestingly, for a thoroughly frightening moment, I was dead ice calm, inside and out. Once I got into my car, still fine. Off the property and calling Animal Control? Yeah, shaking badly.

I worked armed security (often at large concerts, e.g., Santana, Pink Floyd, etc., and some construction sites) and UNarmed security (apartment complexes, other construction sites, stores) for a couple of years in college. Three scary incidents in just a few months decided me that LEO was not going to be my career of choice...

First, working armed security at the old Tampa Stadium. My duty site was normally at the top section of the southwest wall - approximately 120 feet above the parking lot - covering my section and supervising the rest of the upper section west side crew. I'd worked, by then, about a half dozen concerts and had gotten to know (by sight) a number of the fans who liked to sit up there and smoke and had made myself "copacetic" with them by (1) being smart enough to know that a single armed rent-a-cop (.357 Maggie or not) was not enough to take people down for violating minor narcotics laws, (2) being willing to light a J or two for those who had trouble getting their matches to work in the swirling winds (why do stoners never carry good lighters?), and (3) being a hardass only to the minimal level needed to resolve a given situation.

The Santana concert, spring '73. Something like 57K fans. Situation: Mid-20s Predator chomping on a little chick (maybe 16, 17) who was too stoned to effectively protest, yet still protesting. He had one arm around her under her blouse, groping her tits, and the other hand was busily trying to unzip her pants and get in them when someone got my attention and pointed him out. I walked over quickly, heard her asking him to please stop, please stop, and told him to let her go or he was going to be in big, big trouble. He looked up, saw the uniform and the nightstick in my hand, and reached into his pocket as he let her go and jumped up... at me.

Without conscious thought, I jammed the end of my nightstick into his solar plexus as hard as I could thrust it, with a predictable result: He doubled over and puked up everything he'd eaten for probably the last three days, at the same time dropping the 7-inch switchblade he'd been trying to get out of his pocket. I opened the blade, set it at a 45º angle against the concrete stadium steps and stepped down hard, breaking it, then cuffed him and sorta dragged him down those same concrete steps until he managed to halfway get his feet under him and go with me more or less willingly.

I didn't even have to testify at a trial or anything. When they ran him, they found out he had a fugitive warrant for violation of probation. They didn't even charge him for the sexual assault on the girl - she hadn't come down with us, and I wasn't sure I could identify her. (Contact highs can be just as high as any other, ya know?)

+ + + +

Pink Floyd concert, same venue, about 70K fans. My last concert. This time, instead of coming in at 4:00 p.m., 2 hours pre-gate opening as usual, we were shorthanded, and as well as being west side supervisor for the concert itself, I was ground supervisor from 8:00 a.m. to 4:00 p.m., watching for fence-jumpers, escorting the money runners (from parking gates to stadium office), and making sure the grounds walkers were actually walking their areas, not sucking up shade under a tree. (This was June or July of 1973... damned hot, even for natives.) About 7:00 p.m., I finally got to hand off the ground crew to another supervisor and went to my west wall post, as usual at the southwest wall.

Somewhere around 8:00, everything got all darrrrk and quiet around me... and the next thing I knew, I was lying on one of the aluminum benches old Tampa Stadium had for seating with my head in someone's lap, and someone else was pouring cool water on my face (and the someone's lap). As my eyes began to focus, I realized I'd passed out. I took a minute longer to gather my wits enough to sit up, blink a few times, take a couple of sips of cool water... and then realized my gun was gone! Just as I was about to freak the hell OUT, a pretty little gal leaned down and said, "Don't worry. I've got your gun in my purse. I didn't want anyone stupid to get any bad ideas." I must have looked confused... she said, "Don't you know who I am?" I still must have looked confused (because I was). She smiled shyly and said, "Remember? The Santana concert? You got that guy off of me." Karma can be a bitch... but she can also be a lady.

(She walked me down to the aid station a little later, when I could walk. My body temp was 104º - I had heatstroke. By the time they got me cooled down and let me outta there, the concert was over. I never saw her again.)

+ + + +

The third situation, and the one that got me out of the security biz, was walking a night shift in an apartment complex near the University of South Florida. Very convenient for me... my complex was a block away. Late summer '73 (Gawd/ess, how easy it is to remember!), about 3 a.m., I'm walking through one of the darker sections of the complex when out of the deepest darks slowly walks a German shepherd. He stops, I stop. He's not growling, but his tail isn't wagging, either. In fact, his tail is pointed straight back behind him, ears almost flattened... yes, I can see his hackles, and they're up. Ohhhh, shit. I know I don't want to back up, I know I don't want to advance, and I know I don't want to just stand there. Where the fuck is my gun? Oh, yeah, this is unarmed. Shitshitshit. I'm looking at about 90 pounds of pissed off (for what reason, I have no clue and I don't care!) dog with teeth that look the size of the teeth on a backhoe, even in the dark.

I remembered reading in some spy thriller that (I think) a training officer tells the spies-to-be something like, "If a trained dog leaps for your throat, you have one chance to tell us about it the next day. Time the leap. As the dog opens his mouth to rip your throat out, his legs are forward and he can't really do anything with them until he's gnawing on your adam's apple. With both hands, if you're right-handed grab his left leg below the knee, and at the same time, drop to your left knee, turning your body to the left and falling hard to your new leftward side (what was formerly behind you). PULL the dog as hard as you can, and as you feel the dog's weight shift, give him as much impetus as you can and let go of the leg. If you do it properly, you'll throw him fifteen to twenty feet away, and he'll land on his back, knocking the wind out of him. If you don't... well, we'll salute at your funeral." This is all going through my head in a fraction of a second. Ummm, yeah. Okay. I'm supposed to do that shit? When I took a few judo classes, most of the time I tried to throw someone, I ended up on my back on the mat! Oops... he's moving... fast. Grab, turn/fall, throw... splat! Ewww... I forgot there was a building about 8 feet behind me, and he just hit it head first. Hard.

Stare. Puke. Sit down at the curb and cry. I've never killed a dog before, even with a car. Look at the poor dog and cry some more. Puke again. Wait a day, turn in my security uniform, my badge. Enough of this shit.

It was a cavalier, so the transmission was not a hugely heavy thing, but, hell, I was only 15 at the time, my arms were fully extended over my head with zero leverage, and it was still a frikken transmission. My shoulders were on non-speaking terms with me for a bit after that.

And now we know why you're into lifting.

...Since for me, post incident, I totally fell apart.

Yeah. See the last incident above. I know the feelin'.


Didn't mean this to go so long. Hope it helps with your adrenalin needs.