Dragula: Suckin' Blood, Turnin' Looks

By Zeno Park and Charlie Palmer

Every college town has that one mysterious figure you only see after 2 a.m.: South Bend has that leprechaun, Columbus has some coked up homeless guy probably, and Ann Arbor has Dragula. But unlike those other freaks, she isn’t hiding in crypts. Instead, she’s haunting the karaoke bar.

She’s been slaying (literally and metaphorically) since the 1400s, when she traded her coffin for a closet full of sequins and started working the midnight shift at Club Nosfra2. And now, after all these years, instead of lurking in shadows, she still thrives under the neon lights, sipping something red and suspiciously viscous from a reusable cup. 

Dragula doesn’t just bite, she bites with glamour: fangs pointed to perfection, cheekbones chiseled like stone, and a contour so sharp it could slice garlic. Her glitter? Biodegradable. Her victims? All give written consent to give blood. Her favorite drink? A special Bloody Mary—hold the Mary, double the blood.

During the daytime, she’s teaching a seminar called “Raising the Stake: From Coffin to Catwalk,” cross-listed with Gender Studies and Folklore. Instead of a final paper, she’s opted for a lipsync battle worth 60% of her students’ grades.

She’s not big on daylight, but she’ll sparkle under a disco ball like she’s in Twilight. Her drag daughters? Bansheeta, Countess Tuckula, and Miss Fang Bang. Together, they’re the Haus of Hemoglobin, bringing eternal life and eternal slay to Ann Arbor’s after-hours scene.

So, if you hear a soft rustle at midnight near State Street, don’t be afraid. It’s just Dragula fluttering her cape, lipsyncing to Olivia Rodrigo, and reminding us all that immortality looks best in six-inch heels.