Woman Gets Stuck Inside of Chuck E. Cheese Game Before Getting Rescued by Firefighters
A woman became trapped inside a game at a Los Angeles-area Chuck E. Cheese's
Video footage showed EMS and firefighters working to free her from the attraction as children and onlookers watched
The Burbank Fire Department or Chuck E. Cheese did not immediately respond to PEOPLE's request for commentA day of fun quickly took a turn at a Los Angeles-area Chuck E. Cheese's when a guest got stuck inside a game.
Video shared to the Citizen app on Thursday, Aug. 7, showed a woman trapped inside a 'Snow Day!' machine at 928 N San Fernando Blvd. The incident was reported just after 3 p.m. local time.
Citizen is a mobile app that sends users location-based safety alerts in real time.
In the footage, an unidentified woman sat still as EMS and crew members from the Burbank Fire Department worked to try and cut her out of the enclosure. Concerned guests were seen watching the situation unfold.
Kids also looked on from a nearby trampoline. What seemed to be several employees were recorded anxiously monitoring the ordeal.
In addition to being shared on the Citizen app's website, the clip was also posted on its Instagram account.
'That 20 mins she had to wait until the firemen showed up had to be super awkward. Some kids got scared,' one person wrote. Another asked, 'Does she win all the money then technically??'
https://people-app.onelink.me/HNIa/kz7l4cuf
PEOPLE did not immediately receive a response from the Burbank Fire Department or Chuck E. Cheese.
The long-running restaurant chain, which features arcade games and live entertainment, made headlines recently when an employee was arrested by Florida police during his work hours as children watched.
Officers with the Tallahassee Police Department arrested 41-year-old Jermell Jones on July 23 while he was dressed in his full Chuck E. Cheese mascot costume during a child's birthday party.
Never miss a story — sign up for to stay up-to-date on the best of what PEOPLE has to offer, from celebrity news to compelling human interest stories.
Photos from the scene showed Jones handcuffed while suited up as the character, as one police officer took the costume's head off.
A woman told police Jones made fraudulent purchases with her child support debit card, which she last used on June 28 during her child's birthday party at the restaurant.
Jones was charged with three felonies — theft of a credit card, criminal use of personal identification information, and fraudulent use of a credit card over two times within six months, the Tallahassee Democrat reported.
Read the original article on People
Hashtags
Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles
Yahoo
8 minutes ago
- Yahoo
My boyfriend told me that he didn't want to get married again. Dealbreaker?
What a jerk, I thought, after Clark yelled at me again to pull faster on the sailboat's lines to keep pace with the changes of the wind as we headed to open water from Marina del Rey. 'I'm never going on another date with this guy again!' But what do I know about sailing? Although I grew up in the Great Lakes region, I'd never sailed before and didn't realize there are no passengers on a sailboat — only crew. I'd just moved to Los Angeles from Detroit after leaving a first-job stint in Switzerland. Both places were too cold for me, so no wonder L.A. was irresistible. Every January the nationally televised Rose Parade proved that even winters would reliably be 72 degrees and sunny. L.A. was the place where this Motown gal believed her dreams of new beginnings with happy endings could come true. I met Clark on Venice Beach. And, no, he wasn't a weightlifter, chainsaw juggler or a magician like the other familiar fixtures on the Venice boardwalk. When he emerged from the ocean surf with his boogie board under his arm and aimed his 1000-watt smile at me watching him from my towel on the sand, I mused, 'Oh, yeah, these West Coast boys are alright.' Read more: L.A. Affairs: I knew what I wanted to enrich and sweeten my life. I was seeking ethical nonmonogamy Our first date after that meet-cute was an afternoon of sailing the next week. Before the rendezvous with Clark at the boathouse, I'd treated myself to a manicure. Big mistake! I soon learned that it's impossible to tug on the 'ropes' of sails with just the tips of my fingers to vainly try to protect my fresh mani. Clark didn't appreciate the nails; he shouted maneuvering commands that clearly conveyed his priorities were solely pragmatic. After the debacle of our initial outing, Clark reactivated his charm, so I gave him another chance, and we dated again and again. A picnic and concert under the Hollywood Bowl stars. The Pantages Theatre for a Broadway show. Lobster dinner in Puerto Nuevo — a long drive to Mexico, but worth it. Clark continued to captivate me with his wry observations about the world, his inclination to be a jokester and even the goofy gifts intended to show he was a romantic at heart. I'm sorry to say that the six-pack Valentine's gift of engine oil for my hemorrhaging VW didn't quite make the cut. However, roses on my birthday, coinciding with the anniversary of our infamous sailing date and our exchanges of "I love you," did endear him to me. Two years into our monogamous dating, I wondered where we were headed. I'd never been in a steady relationship that lasted more than six months — until now. He'd been married before, for less than two years. And yet I was afraid to bring up the topic of marriage in case the answer precipitated one more casualty in my portfolio of failed romances. Until one Sunday night. After spending another consecutive weekend with Clark at his place, I was dreading my usual return drive home over the Sepulveda Pass and into the Valley. Somehow the burning need to just know what his intentions might be gave me the courage to pop the question: 'Do you think you'll ever get married again?' His reply crushed me. 'You know I was married once, but that didn't work out. It hurt to uncouple our lives from our dreams.' He paused. 'And now you are my special love. I couldn't be happier with our relationship, and everything is wonderful just as it is. But ... no, I don't want to marry again.' Read more: L.A. Affairs: He was kind and rich. His expensive gifts hinted at something darker I felt dizzy from the visceral ringing in my ears as all I heard over and over was 'no.' I don't remember exactly what either of us said after that, but I was clear about what I wanted: I wanted to be married to him, my best friend. Not now, but someday I wanted to introduce him as more than the man I dated. I couldn't detach my dreams from the day-to-day connections we had already built. And if I'd never be his wife, then it wasn't enough. It was over for me. I drove mindlessly toward home. I replayed the breakup again and again as West Los Angeles retreated farther and farther away. Somehow I made it safely to the little bungalow I shared with Heather, my rescue cat. I hugged her close, thinking now she would see more of me on the weekends because Clark had been too allergic to cats to stay at my place. Reality hit, hard: He would no longer be part of my life. Determined to put the weekend behind me, the next morning I prepared for another busy Monday of seeing patients. I walked briskly into the office, but the cheerful dentist I worked for took one look at my face with my eyes puffy from crying and asked, 'What happened to you?' Sniffling, I shared how and why I had broken up with Clark. My boss shrugged and quoted an old saying: 'No need to buy the cow when the milk is free.' Gee, thanks for that. Read more: L.A. Affairs: My dog bit my date. Would I hear from him again? As I was leaving for lunch at home, Dr. Happy Sayings bolted from his office and called out, 'You can't go! Clark is coming over.' Before I could react, Clark was there, beckoning me outside. As he took me in his arms, my tears started anew. He begged me to stop crying and explained that he had never thought about marrying again until I surprised him by asking if he ever would. Clark admitted that if being married was what it would take to spend the rest of his life with me, then yes — someday, yes, we would marry. That promise was enough for me, as another year passed without a wedding. When I was accepted into graduate school at UCLA, I retired as a dental hygienist and moved in with Clark. Heather moved in with an allergy-free Englishman in San Pedro, where she lived happily ever after. My happily ever after started soon enough. My first year as an MBA student was a gold mine of entertainment as I regaled Clark with tales of the hookups between classmates. Later I joked that he couldn't slip an engagement ring onto my finger fast enough. I also teased him that he had waited until he was certain I landed a good job post-graduation before setting the wedding date. We decided to forgo traditional nuptials in favor of a civil ceremony, splurging instead on an extended celebratory trip in Europe. Read more: L.A. Affairs: I boldly gave a fun, mysterious guy my number. Could I refrain from Googling him later? That summer my memories of the frosty winter when I'd worked in Switzerland faded with Clark by my side. Everywhere felt warm with bonhomie as the locals wished us an Ausgezeichnete Hochzeitsreise, or Excellent Honeymoon. From an outdoor terrace in a lakeside Alpine village, we watched catamarans and windsurfers lean into the wind and fly across the water below. Clark held me close and asked if I'd like to go sailing. I just grinned and answered, 'No, I don't think so. ... Everything is wonderful, just as it is.' The author, who lives in Culver City, is still married to the erstwhile sailor, but she now sculls at UCLA's Marina Aquatics Center. She returned to her alma mater as an executive coach for MBA students at the UCLA Anderson School of Management. She writes a weekly column for them about the ups and downs of careers and leadership. You can find her on LinkedIn at L.A. Affairs chronicles the search for romantic love in all its glorious expressions in the L.A. area, and we want to hear your true story. We pay $400 for a published essay. Email LAAffairs@ You can find submission guidelines here. You can find past columns here. Sign up for The Wild newsletter to get weekly insider tips on the best of our beaches, trails, parks, deserts, forests and mountains. This story originally appeared in Los Angeles Times. Solve the daily Crossword
Yahoo
8 minutes ago
- Yahoo
Is Khamzat Chimaev one of the UFC's biggest stars, or one of the biggest asterisks? (The answer: Yes)
If the UFC is still in the business of creating stars, Khamzat Chimaev qualifies on his own terms. He should be a star, but he comes with this little knapsack of asterisks and uncertainties. With his visa issues, we weren't even sure he'd be able to compete in the United States up until the minute the UFC booked him into a title fight with 185-pound champion Dricus du Plessis at UFC 319 in Chicago on Aug. 16. Even then it felt hypothetical until Khamzat popped up in California to train. By every measure, Chimaev should be among the top UFC draws as he gets set for his ninth overall fight in the organization next weekend. He's undefeated in his pro career, which is a loud enough detail to market a contender. That he broke into the UFC during the pandemic — starching two dudes in 10 days on 'Fight Island,' just as the fight game's libido for gambling was ramping up — is fodder for a future '30 for 30.' Watching him turn Kevin Holland into human origami is something that'll stick with a man. And honestly, the X-ray of Robert Whittaker's mouth after his encounter with Chimaev — one that ended with a row of Whittaker's lower teeth dislodged — doubled as a warning to stay the hell away. The trouble with Chimaev is that he's a mysterious enough figure that you can't trust him. Not him specifically, but the complex nature of all that he is, and the many lunatic things surrounding him. He has the look of a hitman. The hard Caucasus beard, the cleft lip, the leathery features — it's an aura, all right. Caspian chic. Terrifying. Yet he has associations, too. His dealings with the Chechen dictator Ramzan Kadyrov darkened his appeal in America, even for those who try to keep their politics separate from their sports. In Chimaev's case, that's become next to impossible. His visa issues stemmed from that very association in the first place, and it took no less a figure than President Donald Trump — UFC CEO Dana White's good friend and fixer — to make things right. As Chimaev said in his media day in Los Angeles, he doesn't love the political associations. But then again neither did the Ford Theater. He's stuck with them, especially because the UFC has become a celebratory arm of the very Trump administration that has opened up his prospects. Yet it's not just that. It's that Chimaev has been somewhat unreliable in general. There was a discourse over the last week on that very topic, started by former fighter Din Thomas, who said that if Chimaev won the middleweight title it would be a nightmare for the UFC. Why? Because he doesn't fight enough. Since 2022, he has fought just once a year. Getting him into the Octagon is matchmaker algebra. It's geography, religion, politics and the element of surprise all bound into one. Chimaev had multiple fights with Leon Edwards nixed due to a long, reportedly life-threatening bout from COVID, a stretch during which he contemplated retirement. Even when he's booked things have a way of going sideways. The Holland fight wasn't supposed to include Holland at all. Chimaev was supposed to play the role of executioner against Nate Diaz in the latter's final UFC fight at UFC 279. But Chimaev couldn't make weight for that welterweight showdown and ended up in a Las Vegas emergency room. The UFC was left to scramble, and Chimaev was redirected to middleweight to face Holland, all just to keep him on the card. That meant Holland was the only one who suffered the consequences of Chimaev's botched cut. He was supposed to fight Whittaker in the UFC's first foray to Riyadh, Saudi Arabia — which was a big deal, given the money being spent — but was forced out with an illness. Again, the UFC was forced to figure out a Plan B, which ended up being the relatively unknown Ikram Aliskerov standing in against Whittaker in the main event. As far as consolation prizes go, that one was particularly underwhelming. Factor in the blackout dates for Ramadan, and Chimaev is fully capable of holding the middleweight division hostage for long periods of time, something that has perhaps kept him away from a title shot to begin with. The truth is, he comes with a lot of fuss. Yet through all this there's been a feeling that he's inevitable. He's been like a wrecking ball that crashes through the strongest delusions, as he did with Whittaker his last time out. Even as we've squinted to identity his weaknesses — his cardio faltering in the makeshift fight against Kamaru Usman, the vulnerable moments against Gilbert Burns — we suspect a tyrant is in our midst. Usually that kind of thing translates to stardom, especially five years into a dominant UFC career. And Chimaev is a star. Mostly. He's a star shaped like an asterisk, so much so that it's hard to tell the difference. What we've been waiting for is the declarative moment when he becomes everything we thought he was. It's been a lot of noise to cut through, but that's where we are. For better or worse, Khamzat Chimaev — the UFC's great monster in pending — will get his chance at that belt. And maybe it is just as simple as that.
CNN
8 minutes ago
- CNN
The ‘GrubHub' for LA's hungry: Bringing the film industry's excess food to people in need
While Hollywood actors may be the face of the film and television industry, teams of professionals work behind the scenes, bringing each cinematic story to life through disciplines like lighting, costumes and set design. For 15 years, Hillary Cohen was one of them, working as an assistant director on TV shows like 'Mad Men,' 'The Office,' and 'NCIS: Los Angeles.' One of the perks she enjoyed were the crew meals provided on set – gourmet, chef-prepared food like steak and seafood. But she'd long been troubled by what happened to the leftovers. 'They would just throw it out,' said Cohen, 40. 'I was always told, 'We can't donate the food. … It's too hard. If someone gets sick, it's a liability.'' While the federal Good Samaritan Act has protected most food donors since 1996, what Cohen witnessed was a long-accepted practice on sets throughout the industry. Eventually, frustration with the situation drove her to start Every Day Action, a nonprofit that picks up extra food from film sets and other businesses and delivers it to communities in need around Los Angeles. Since 2020, the group estimates it has redistributed more than 270,000 meals. 'We're the GrubHub,' she said. 'We take it from point A to point B.' For years, Cohen had a solution in mind about how to distribute surplus food from sets to people in need, but her 16-hour workdays didn't give her much opportunity to pursue it. The Covid-19 pandemic changed that, bringing the film industry to a screeching halt. At first, Cohen threw herself into mask making – she sewed more than 5,000 masks – but in the summer of 2020 she realized she could use this time to turn her vision for rescuing food into reality. 'I'd been saying for a long time that someone should do something about this, and no one had done it,' she said. 'So, I realized … maybe I'll just try.' She called Samantha Luu, a colleague who was also deeply bothered by the issue, and together they got to work. Neither had any nonprofit experience, but as assistant directors – roles that deal with logistics and scheduling – they were used to figuring things out on the fly. They got liability insurance, enabling them to fully release companies of any legal responsibility for donating food. Then, as work resumed, they reached out to their contacts to put their idea into action. As industry insiders familiar with production, they knew how to alleviate management's concerns and pick up the food quickly and discretely. 'We speak their language,' Cohen said. 'I always say, 'We don't care about Martin Scorsese, we just care about your mashed potatoes.'' At first, Cohen and Luu made most of the pickups themselves with the help of volunteers. But when they went back to work, that became unmanageable. As a result, they developed their Film Industry Driver Program, which pays a day rate that covers a stipend and gas to employees like production assistants and background actors for their help. For Cohen, this just made sense: The nonprofit gets 'set savvy' professionals to make pickups, and those with the lowest paid positions in the industry earn some extra money. 'It's a way (for them) to find work in between jobs. It's a shifting schedule, so it's hard to find anywhere else to work,' she said. 'To me, it's just this circle: Reduce waste by using the people in Hollywood … (to help) these people who don't have food.' While Cohen and Luu still make pickups occasionally, most of their time is now spent coordinating logistics. All drivers are trained and given safety vests equipped with an alarm, along with a sign for their vehicle. Food is transported in thermal bags that keep it at a safe temperature. For Stephen Faust, an executive chef who has worked in on-set catering for more than 20 years, the group provides an easy solution to a problem that always bothered him. 'For decades, it broke my heart to throw food away, so we're happy to do it,' Faust said. 'It's just like clockwork. They show up, we pass off the food, and we're all set.' The group picks up meals 24 hours a day, seven days a week from five to 10 locations per day, covering an estimated 90-mile radius in Los Angeles. The food is distributed to shelters, food pantries, nonprofits, community fridges, and homeless encampments. When the writer's strike in 2023 brought production to a stop once again, Cohen and Luu pivoted and built connections with grocery stores, companies, and other venues. 'I'm a high stakes problem solver,' Cohen said. 'In this business, you often hit a roadblock and have to figure out a new plan, so we just approach every day that way.' While their services are free, they strongly encourage locations to make a $50 donation per pickup to help pay the drivers and offset the cost of gas. After working on this effort for nearly four years without pay, much of that time juggling their industry jobs, Cohen and Luu now do this work full-time, earning small part-time salaries. While Cohen isn't sure she's done with working in the film industry, for now her focus is on Every Day Action: connecting the dots – one set, one meal, one person at a time. 'I feel like my skillset is called to do this,' she said. 'Now more than ever, we have to help each other.' Want to get involved? Check out the Every Day Action website and see how to help. To donate to Every Day Action via Pledge, click here
