Unless he adds nanobots to his bloodstream or something science fiction-y like that, he'd be a GREAT speaker for the habit. And him not drinking for the day he donates would show his discipline.
And hey, I donated today. And have the bandages -- plural -- to prove it. The vein on my left arm that the phlebotomists (I love that word) tried first fought with us, and I started to bruise, so we aborted that attempt and switched to my right. I was so, so tempted to claim I had pints taken out BOTH ARMS AT THE SAME TIME because that is hardcore. Or would be, if it wasn't a really bad idea. Anyway, a pint of my O-Negative is in the Red Cross's hands, as I try to do every two months.
Moments from getting there, being there, and leaving there:
Lots of time on buses, as is typical for me. One trip earlier today, I briefly sat behind a youngish guy, 20s is my best guess (I suck at guessing ages and have no particular urge to get good at that), drinking a beer from a paper bag'd bottle. I moved away from him because him drinking annoyed me. I wanted to say "Classy" loudly, but picking a fight with someone drinking semi-publicly is probably a bad idea.
Before my donation, I ate at KoiFusion's location in the same pod as Big-Ass Sandwiches. Korean food can be adapted to tamales. My stomach is happy to know this now. I also visited Brian Wood in his cart, as he cut the non-meat bits of a large cut of beef; said non-meat bits'll get simmered to create, a week from now, au jus. You're welcome, next week's French Dip eaters.
During my donation, two of the phlobotomists did something they were especially proud of. They celebrated by bumping elbows. Hands untouched by other hands means no need to wash them again.
There. Checked in. I can more easily remember some of these details because I've written them down. I hope Future-Me appreciates that.