The joke was about socks and nobody laughed.

Let me explain. There are lots of subway vendors in Argentina. These vendors sell all sorts of things — stationery, bread, pens — but most often, I’ve noticed, they sell socks. Black socks, white socks, pink socks, polka-dot socks, Messi socks. The next time you’re in Argentina and you need a pair of socks, skip going to the department store. Just ride the B line from Gallardo to Callao. Somebody will offer you socks.

I could’ve just left it there, but I didn’t. Because why socks?

I mean, when was the last time you were sitting on the subway at nine in the morning, trying to force the fog out of your brain with a morning cup of coffee, holding your backpack against your chest and peering at a call for socialist revolution scrawled in sharpie on the wall across from you, and you thought to yourself, “Damn, you know what I really need right now? A pair of socks.”

Do Argentinians frequently forget to put on their socks in the morning, only to realize in a panic on the subway that their feet are chilly? Are these vendors getting a great deal from sock manufacturers? Is the sock market just booming right now?

So I wrote a short joke about selling socks on the subway, and, under the pretext of asking them to “check my grammar,” delivered the joke to my host family.

After they were finished not laughing, I asked, “But does it make sense? Because it’s sort of silly that so many people sell socks on the subway.”

“What do you mean?” My host mom asked. “Everybody needs socks.”

I spent the next five minutes brooding on the failure of my joke. It’s a tricky task, figuring out why a joke didn’t land. There are a lot of factors at play. Maybe my delivery was off. Maybe there’s something cultural that I’m missing. Maybe I just didn’t have the right audience.

Or maybe the joke wasn’t funny because goddammit, everybody needs socks.