The Worst Night of My Life and the Restaurant That Saved It

There are worse places to be at 11:30 p.m. on a Tuesday than stranded on the side of the highway with nothing but metal for a back tire. Prison, maybe? The last shift of one of those pedal bike bars?

Two weeks ago, I found myself stranded just minutes after heading home from Carrollton when my entire car started to rumble. It happened while I was going downhill and merging from one of those skyscraper ramps onto LBJ Freeway.  I heard and felt an explosion from the back of my car. Rumbling over to the side barrier, I parked and saw that my back passenger tire was gone, and what was above it was damaged. All that was left was metal.

It had to be towed. I called AAA and was given a two-hour wait time. They told me I would need to be at my car when the mechanic arrived. Call me high maintenance, but there was no way I was sitting on the side of the highway for two hours and into the early morning. I’d worked up some appetite, and the exit to Old Denton and McCoy Road was just about 800 feet ahead of me. My girlfriend was able to pick me up, and we headed into the city.

I was lucky to come across 99 Pocha, a late-night Korean bar and grill that closes at 2 a.m. on weeknights and 4 a.m. on Fridays and Saturdays.

The interior channels dive, but the charming sort that gets romanticized in movies, TV shows or your memory. A cardboard cutout of Korean singer and Blackpink frontwoman Jennie Kim brandishing a bottle of Soon Hari soju greets customers at the door. The bar has a selection of American booze and soju, with a 3-foot-tall blue toad mascot for the Jinro brand.

99 Pocha appears to be trapped in various points in time, with Christmas and Halloween decorations still up during our March dinner.
After being seated, we were given a menu touting a maximum price of $14.99 for any one dish. Even more enticing was that most items at 99 Pocha are family-style shareable portions.

We ordered a pork bulgogi plate, served like fajitas on a hot black plate with crispy onions, carrots and cabbage. We also ordered a Korean army soup, sizzling in a metal pot with kimchi, spam, sausages, thin ramen noodles and a slice of American cheese.

The soup had its merits and was undoubtedly made better after ordering a separate add-on of sticky rice to mix into the broth. Ultimately, while charming, the motley crew of ingredients tasted more like a creation you’d throw together at home when you didn’t have enough money for groceries.

The pork bulgogi was a different story. Each bite, sizzle and crunch was so delicious that it nearly made me forget that I almost drove off an overpass and my car was sitting on the side of the highway. For $14.99, the dish feeds two people and is as delicious a cut of meat as you’ll find at any Korean joint in Dallas.

It was nearly 2 a.m. when I finally got the call from AAA that the mechanic and tow truck operator were approaching. The man was jovial in a way that was calming but also stressful, speaking to me like we'd been friends for years. His first question was, "Where did you leave the keys inside the car?"

What?

"You're still here?" he asked. "Did nobody tell you just to leave the keys?"

Nobody did.

"What have you been doing this whole time?" he asked.

I told him I had found this fantastic late-night Korean spot and had been camping out there while I was waiting. He told me how hungry he was and how great Korean food sounded.

The mechanic picked up my car and towed it to a tire shop near my place. Upon arrival, he accepted my thanks before asking what the name of that Korean place was.

"99 Pocha," I told him, and he said he'll see me there soon. I'm gonna hold him to it.