Soon after arriving at our first ball (ples, from plesať, to enjoy oneself) together in Slovakia, my wife and I found ourselves in a crush around the wine bar (pri vínovom pulte). We clutched our tiny tester glasses of riesling above the shoulders of the throng and grimaced at familiar faces in the crowd. I had a cigarette going, but as there were neither ashtrays provided nor any way of reaching one had I wanted, I surreptitiously ground the butt (špak, ohorok) out on the polished floor - just as the organiser of the gathering squeezed by.
"No jasné, jasné" he said with cutting irony (but of course, of course), indicating disgust with my boorish (sedlácke) behaviour.
Not the best start to a social evening (spoločenský večer), but then I've never been good at these things. I own only one suit (oblek) that still fits me, and refuse to buy a dinner jacket (smoking) for the very good reason that I won't wear it enough to justify the expense. And I look like a fraud in a bow-tie (motýlik, lit. butterfly).
I also have a penchant for spilling (obliať) víno on guests and food (jedlo) on myself. I don't dance (tancovať) and I'm rotten at making conversation (udržiavať konverzáciu).