What’s the worst cliché in journalism? You, the journalist, get into a cab, and have an interesting conversation with the driver — and then report on it. There is nothing gaucher you can do.

I really don’t care. I was in a cab recently, down in Dallas. (Dallas is up for most Texans, but it is down for most of the rest of the country.) The driver was from Tunisia. And he ought to teach in Middle East Studies departments — or at least lecture.

Of his native country, he said, “They say they have stability, but how can you have real stability without freedom and democracy? Their stability is just a dictator, who will be replaced by another dictator.”

He marvels at how easily a person can become an American: “You get here, and, if you want to be, you’re an American. That can’t happen anywhere else, that I know of. People say to me, ‘What are you?’ I say, ‘I am originally from Tunisia, but I am an American.’ And if they doubt me, I show them my government card. They can’t produce anything like that. I say, ‘Are you sure you’re an American? You can’t prove it.’”

He finds our political system kind of a miracle: “When a president’s term is up, he has to leave. He has to get out. If he tries to stay, the police or the military will come throw him out. He can’t just hang on to power for as long as he wants.” It’s amazing what we, as Americans, can take for granted. Rotation in office is not a universal principle.

The driver was recently back in Tunisia. And a curious incident occurred, in the town. A horse reared up and injured somebody (not badly). The owner subdued the horse as quickly as he could. Later, a mob came and beat the owner up, as punishment. “My sister said, ‘Good, he deserved it.’ And she is a doctor, a psychologist. If she thinks this way — that a mob can just do what it wants — what about common people?”

America, he says, has an independent judiciary, and legislatures, and executive branches. In Tunisia — as in most places — it’s all one. The cab driver thinks that the separation of powers is a miracle. Again, amazing what we take for granted.

And I know what he means when he talks about his sister and the common people. Shortly after 9/11 — maybe on 9/11, I can’t remember — a doctor acquaintance in Alexandria e-mailed me. She said, “I know you live in New York, and I hope you’re okay. And please know that Muslims could not have done this.” She murmured about the Jews. I thought, “If she can think this — a doctor who lectures at the University of Alexandria — what hope does her janitor have? What about the man selling lemons on the street?”

Anyway, it can be very, very refreshing to talk to an immigrant, as I did in Dallas. And if you’re a journalist, never, ever report your conversations with cabbies — unless you want to.