My 'gay' socks

I’m sitting in at the restaurant bar in complete exhaustion after my first day on site.  It’s been 12 hours, I feel disgusting, and I’m barely awake.  I’d love a beer, but I’m so exhausted the thought isn’t very exciting.  All I want is my food to come, to go take a shower, and to go to bed.  The bar has a constant flow of regulars and the barmaid banters jovially with each.  She keeps an eye on me and periodically directs conversation my way to make sure I’m still awake.  Leaving the bar is a group of four people: two husbands and two wives.  One of the husbands tells the barmaid that his daughter was mocking his dark socks pulled halfway up his shins with his dark sneakers.  He proceeds to tell the barmaid that he was instructed to roll/push them down and that is how they should be worn.  Upon doing this we are treated to the farmer tan caused by spending the whole day outside with socks pulled up.  The barmaid intervenes and points out that since he’s worn them all day pulled up they should be pulled up.  His wife notices me and asks my opinion observing that I seem like someone who “knows how to dress”.  Bear in mind that I’m wearing jeans, work boots, and a grey long sleeve shirt.  The husband asks whether he should be wearing “gay socks that come to my ankles and have little balls on the back of them”.  In a fit of embarrassment the wife begins to chastise the husband out of fear of having offended the outsider, myself.  I can’t keep myself from laughing at the situation and I agree that he should wear ankle socks.  The husband keeps referring to them as “gay socks” and the wife continues apologizing while saying “ not that there is anything wrong with it.”  I’m certainly not in the Bay Area anymore and it’s hysterical.