John Delacosta of Pompano Beach won the Seminole Coconut Creek Space Flight promotion, documented in a Showtime story I did, on Monday night.

The flight was listed as worth $200,000, but he chose to take the $110,000 cash option. But don't hit him up for the money: Delacosta, 68, a former electrical engineer from Trinidad, has a son and four grandsons, and says he'll probably slip them a little somethin'.

Well-wishers at the casino all slapped him on the back; he's a regular.

"He's here eight days a week," one friend said. He plays slots and video roulette.

Delacosta immediately took the cash.

"I have a bad heart and have no interest in the trip," he said.

Space flight isn't happening for a couple of years, so the casino was merely buying a ticket. My opinion is the casino had to be a little nervous, and relieved he took the cash: these private-business flight companies can refuse to take your business, and they weren't on-board with the whole promotion. You never saw their name anywhere in the ads.

The casino drew a name each hour from 2 p.m. to 6 p.m. and players had to pick the two DVDs, out of 20, that played footage of a space flight. Do the math: that means the odds were one in 380; 1 in 20, and times 1 in 19 had you happened to draw the first one correctly. Still better than the lottery.

So, not surprisingly, none of the five names chosen on Monday, or on four previous promotions days during the summer made the match.

The casino at 6 p.m. then added four 'wild cards,' -- think of the Deal or No Deal episodes when they keep adding extra $1 million suitcases to induce a winner -- and when the next person didn't hit, they added 2 more.

So that put the odds at 8 in 20 times 7 in 19 (or 56 in 380, which is about 15 percent, or one in seven). The math worked: Six more players tried and failed (with only one getting even half of a match) before Della Costa hit.

Trivia: he chose DVDs Nos. 2 and 13.

The casino also had a jet pack demonstration, laser light show and threw out T-shirts at the 6 p.m. drawing.

Which always amuses me. Two men simultaneously grabbed one shirt -- I say settle it with rock, paper scissors -- and one relented. The victor gave the shirt to his date. Then another man, off to the side apparently made a comment.

So the woman, in too-tight pink checked shorts -- she had lumps, not curves -- and a sleeveless shirt that revealed a healthy shoulder tattoo stuck up her middle finger at him -- while not managing to spill her drink. Classy.

All over a shirt.

Wish she'd had put it on.