We have no idea how consciousness work, how probabilities can be assigned on expectation of being a given person, or the expectation of experiencing something. "If there are a million ants for every living human being, why am I a person instead of an ant?" may be a meaningful question, or then again it may not.
But to answer your question, my expectation is that for the probability of 'tropical paradise in one minute' to exceed 50% the calculation of your simulated selves combined will need to take up a physical volume that exceeds the volume taken up by your current brain (or the portion of your current brain devoted to your consciousness).
For some time I've been pondering on a certain scenario, which I'll describe shortly. I hope you may help me find a satisfactory answer or at very least be as perplexed by this probabilistic question as me. Feel free to assign any reasonable a priori probabilities as you like. Here's the problem:
It's cold cold winter. Radiators are hardly working, but it's not why you're sitting so anxiously in your chair. The real reason is that tomorrow is your assigned upload (and damn, it's just one in million chance you're not gonna get it) and you just can't wait to leave your corporality behind. "Oh, I'm so sick of having a body, especially now. I'm freezing!" you think to yourself, "I wish I were already uploaded and could just pop myself off to a tropical island."
And now it strikes you. It's a weird solution, but it feels so appealing. You make a solemn oath (you'd say one in million chance you'd break it), that soon after upload you will simulate this exact moment thousand times simultaneously and when the clock strikes 11 AM, you're gonna be transposed to a Hawaiian beach, with a fancy drink in your hand.
It's 10:59 on a clock. What's the probability that you'd be in a tropical paradise in one minute?
And to make things more paradoxical: What would be said probability, if you wouldn't have made such an oath - just seconds ago?